


These Hungry Ghosts

by whalehuntingboyfriends



Series: The Bright Side Of The Dark Side [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-OT6 - Freeform, spooky scary au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:45:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalehuntingboyfriends/pseuds/whalehuntingboyfriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For too long Michael had nothing. But now for the first time, he’s found a home with others like him. For the first time, he has a future - and sure, it’s a bit weird to be aware of a prophecy that you’re gonna end up in some sort of relationship with five other people, but he’s not about to start trying to make it happen. For now he’ll wait. For now things are good.</p>
<p>Until the day Ray returns from the forest in his wolf form, unable to change back. </p>
<p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2754740/chapters/6175478">If You Love It, Bring It Back From The Dead</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Hungry Ghosts

The night that Ray goes into the woods and doesn’t come back, Michael is sitting with Geoff and Gavin under the stars.

It is a brilliantly clear night for autumn and out here by the forest, away from the smoke-scape of the city, the sky above them is a glittering mass. It’s a spectacle Michael has seen a thousand times before, night after night since the 1950s, when walking alone along desert tracks or camping out on clifftops. Something he’s watched fade as the years passed by and light pollution took hold. But for all that it’s familiar, even old to him, there seems something very special about it when he’s sitting on the back porch of the old house with Gavin next to him, head resting against his shoulder and spilling beer all over the place. It smells like crisp dry leaves and the wood of the furniture Jack’s been building over on the patio nearby, and smoke.

The smoke is Geoff. Demons can’t get drunk but after he’s had a few he gets a bit flame-y, which is why Michael is sitting a good distance away. Since Gavin’s, y’know, fucking spilt liquor all over him he’s feeling a bit too flammable.

“Orion,” Gavin is saying, staring up at the sky, his finger tracing a path across the twinkling lights. “Cancer - Gemini, that one’s definitely Gemini.”

“You’re literally just fucking making things up,” Michael cuts in. “That’s not Gemini. How is that Gemini?”

“That totally looks like two stick figures,” Gavin insists. “Look - that one’s the arm, and that’s the body, and the other arm-” 

“Where’s the _fucking head_.”

“They’re stick figures, you pleb,” Gavin says, and elbows him, spilling even more beer all over the place. “They don’t _have_ heads. Well, maybe that’s not Gemini, but that other one’s definitely Orion. That’s the big famous one, I know it.”

“And that,” Geoff says, sagely pointing his finger up at the sky, “Is the Big Dick.”

They solemnly observe. With a little imagination you can, indeed, see the shape of a rather large penis. Balls and all. Michael’s rather impressed.

“His is totally made up and it’s better than yours,” he informs Gavin.

“I’m gonna trademark it,” Geoff says smugly. “I want it to be my new starsign.”

Gavin starts tittering, and Michael reaches out and ruffles his hair before standing up and stretching.

“Well! I’m off to bed. Don’t stay up too late, idiots.”

“Sleep is for the mortal,” Geoff replies, and Michael pulls a face at him. Gavin grabs his hand and tugs a bit.

“Goodnight Michael,” he says, and Michael can’t help but grin. In the dim light of the porch Gavin’s cast in shadow, and you can’t really see the stitches running down the side of his face or the dead pallor of his skin. His eyes, though - his eyes are glowing their usual supernatural blue in the dark. What Michael likes is how relaxed he is; not shrinking back into the shadows to hide himself or raising a hand to cover his eyes. The summer has been good to all of them.

“G’night Gavvers,” he replies, and heads inside. He pauses before shutting the door, watching both of them with a fond smile. Gavin’s shifted to sit by Geoff’s side now, heedless of how his clothes or hair might get singed, the two of them still gazing up at the stars and pointing.

It’s comfortable here.

The house is warm inside, and there’s something very homely about the lamplight and the old furniture. The books strewn over the coffee table in the lounge; one of Gavin’s jackets slung over the back of a chair. A stack of video games on the bookshelf next to heavy scientific tomes. They’ve made a home of it and Michael’s smiling as he heads towards the stairs and what’s been his room for a year now.

He pauses when he hears a noise in the kitchen, padding over to look in. Ryan’s standing at the sink, rinsing a mug out. 

“Ray back yet?” Michael asks.

Ryan turns. He looks dishevelled; his reading glasses up on top of his messy hair, dark shadows under his eyes from where he’s been staying up too late again. But the sight of him coming out for a midnight tea break is something that’s become very familiar to all of them, and he gives a fond little smile when he sees Michael.

“No,” he replies. “When’d he go out again?”

“Like seven? Pretty long walk if he is still out.” Michael glances up at the clock and frowns a little; it’s going on one o’clock now.

Ryan looks briefly worried, but shakes his head a bit.

“You know Ray. He needs his space sometimes. He can take care of himself.”

“He can,” Michael agrees, and shakes off the little shiver of unease that took hold of him. Anyone going out on their own unsettles him a bit - brings back too many memories of what happened with Gavin. Those terrible few days after he died - and those awful weeks after he _came back_  - but that’s not going to happen here. He might be a scrawny little fucker as a human, but in his wolf form Ray’s pretty damn dangerous.

And it’s not winter yet. The forest should be fairly safe. Hell, Michael’s gone out for night walks in it before.

The upstairs corridor is dark and quiet when he gets up there, the floorboards creaking under his feet, the house groaning gently around him the way it always does on a windy night. He can hear Jack snoring softly in his own room down the hall, and goes to peek into Ray’s bedroom in case he slipped into the house without Ryan noticing. But the room is empty and silent, and Michael bites his lip before heading into his own and shutting the door behind him.

He moves to the window and looks out. There’s a bright moon in the sky, its great pale face staring down and lighting the forest below the hill up blue. The full moon was a few days ago so it’s only barely waning now. It makes him think of Ray and the nights the other man used to spend running out on the moor when he couldn’t control his changes. Michael would always wait up for him.

That was last year. Now autumn is coming again and they’re all the better for it. The leaves are only just starting to drop from the trees and from up here he can see them, great dark piles lining the roads and scattered gently over the ground below. He looks up at the moon again and misses Ray, suddenly.

It’s funny but he does that a lot lately.  They’ve spent so much time in each other’s company, stayed up late talking or playing Xbox almost every night, that now that he’s not here Michael suddenly wants him. They’re close, that’s all.

But they also know when to give each other space, and Michael turns away from the window and moves to go to sleep. 

—

When he wakes up, Ray is still not there.

“Where is he?” Michael demands, when he searches the whole house, finds him gone, and strides into the kitchen where the others are.

It seems they’ve already realised the wolf’s disappearance too. They’re all sitting around the kitchen table and Ryan’s got his phone to his ear, obviously trying to call him. Gavin shushes Michael and he falls silent, straining to hear - but moments later they hear the buzzing sound of a phone vibrating in the living room.

“Damn it,” Ryan says, ending the call. “Forgot his phone back here again.”

“Did he come back at all last night?” Michael asks, and Gavin shakes his head.

“Geoff and I were up late,” he says. “We didn’t see him come in.”

He looks upset, teeth worrying nervously at his bottom lip. After everything that happened last year he still hasn’t been back in the forest alone, and Michael’s stomach twists, dread beginning to build up low in his gut.

_Something might have happened - something might have fucking happened-_

And there’s a bubbling panic under that because _oh God, if it happens again - if it’s Gavin all over again - I cannot deal with that, I cannot fucking go through that again-_

_Stay calm. You don’t know for sure that anything’s happened. Just stay fucking calm_.

He hides his worry under a scowl, turning towards Ryan, who’s frowning now too and looking out the window towards the forest. It seems as calm and peaceful as usual - things get quieter in autumn, the buzzing fairies and wood sprites retiring away as the trees turn orange and shed their leaves. 

“We’d better go look for him,” Ryan says.

“No need to panic yet,” Geoff cuts in, although he looks concerned too. “We all wander off sometimes. It’s not the first time he’s stayed out.”

“That’s true,” Jack adds - Michael glances over at him and a little of the fear in his stomach uncoils as he remembers how Jack often goes back to the swamp himself some nights, though he usually tells them first.

They all wander off, in fact, except for Ryan and Gavin. It’s not unknown for Michael to spend a night out in the woods if he’s feeling pensive; needs some fresh air - and Ray leaves the most of all of them, though he normally at least lets Michael know first.

“We’ll have a quick look but no one freak out unless he’s not back by this evening,” Ryan decides, and looks down at Gavin then, giving him a reassuring smile before resting a hand on his shoulder. Gavin glances back up at him and smiles a bit too, and Michael watches them before turning away and wrapping his arms around himself. He still feels uneasy.

But Geoff’s right. It’s not productive to panic, not yet, so he heads out with the others to search the forest. The usual trails and tracks are all empty, and after a time Geoff and Jack go back to the house and Ryan and Gavin get out their equipment and start their usual activities in the woods, promising to keep an eye out for Ray the whole time.

Michael goes with them, trailing along behind and dragging his feet, kicking at the piles of fallen leaves that line the trek. He keeps looking around as though expecting Ray to emerge from the trees at any moment. But all is still and silent around them.

Gavin and Ryan are on edge too, though they’re making an effort to act normally - Gavin dancing along trying to jump and catch any leaves that start drifting down from the trees. Ryan laughing at him and telling him to stop mucking around. But they’re something oddly subdued about them, and when they set up their cameras near a gnome den Michael tells them he’s heading off and goes for a walk on his own.

“Ray?” he calls out when he’s a good distance away. He’s abandoned the path and is picking his way through the trees. It feels slightly awkward yelling when there’s no one around, but he’s too old by this point to give a fuck what other people think about him. “Ray, you out there?”

Nothing.

He sighs, trudging deeper into the trees before stopping and closing his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Everything smells like rich soil and dry leaves and dirt, and the air is crisp and cool. A leaf falls onto his head and he absently shakes it off. When he opens his eyes the sky beyond the trees looks too white and bright, nearly hurting to look at. It’s so silent he nearly feels dizzy, and there’s a tingle in the air that makes the hair on the back of his neck rise.

Autumn is when the ghosts come out.

It used to frighten him, all those years ago back when he’d only just been reanimated. When the fall first rolled around and suddenly there were figures everywhere. Some realer than others - so real he could barely tell they weren’t human, that only he could see them - some little more than shadows in the corners of his eyes. In the cities it was alright - they were quite normal there - but out in the rural areas, in the forests and fields… that’s where things get fucking weird.

But he shakes it off now. There is no one around him, and he searches a little longer to no avail before heading back up to the house just as the sun starts to sink low.

He’s exhausted and hungry as he trudges up the steep hill towards the house, feeling that awful stickiness that comes with being outdoors all day and wanting to shower. It’s growing dark quicker now as they move away from summer, and when the porch light switches on ahead of him he smiles, looking up to see Jack standing up there. He starts to lift his hand to wave-

Only to freeze when he hears a low whine from nearby.

He looks around, ears straining - and a second later, another sound. The shifting of a body on gravel.

“Hello?” Michael calls out, cautiously - it was coming from over where Ryan keeps his car parked, and he ventures over, looking around. Nothing’s in sight near the trees or behind the car - but a moment later he hears the gravel shift again, and crouches down, looking _under_ the vehicle.

“Ray?” he cries out, surprised.

Even in his wolf form, he recognises him instantly. The wolf is lying underneath the car, as far back into the shadows as he can - Michael can only just make out the glow of his eyes, the gleam of his teeth. At first it’s just _relief_ that Ray is here, back at the house, alive and well - but the concern quickly creeps in, because Ray just sort of sits there, staring at him-

And why the fuck is he in his wolf form?

“Ray?” Michael prompts again, and shifts on the ground to see him better. “Whatcha doing under there, bud?”

He stretches out a hand towards Ray but freezes when the wolf lets out a low sort of growl, though it quickly tapers off into something more like a whine. Michael hesitates, a new dread overtaking him.

_What the fuck is going on?_

“Ray?” he asks again, concerned. “It’s just me. Please come out. We’ve been looking for you all day, man. What are you doing?”

Another low whine. Then, slowly, Ray drags himself out from under the car and stands before Michael. He’s tense, Michael can tell that - fur fluffed out, eyes wary - but he relaxes a little when Michael settles a hand on his head and rubs soothingly around his ears. After a moment he deflates a little and Michael runs his hands through the fur of his body, checking for injury. He seems totally unharmed, and his frown deepens.

“Why are you in your wolf form?” he asks, and Ray just stares up at him with wide eyes. 

Michael has no fucking idea what’s happening.

“Ray?” he asks again. “Change back, won’t you?”

Ray just stares sadly up at him and whines again. Michael waits, expecting the shift back into a human that he’s seen Ray do a number of times before - but it doesn’t happen. The wolf just stands before him and then, after a moment, hangs his head and nudges at Michael’s shoes with his nose.

Something isn’t right, and it doesn’t take long for Michael to figure out what it might be; the most obvious reason why Ray wouldn’t shift back.

“Are you stuck?” he tries, and then crouches in front of Ray, lifting a hand up. “Touch my hand if you’re stuck.”

Without hesitation Ray bumps his head against Michael’s outstretched palm, and Michael freezes, horrified. 

This is a situation they’ve never faced before.

Ray’s always changed back after his uncontrolled turns - normally once he settles down he can do it on command. And Michael still has a terrible feeling that this wasn’t just a normal change, one of the ones that happens on a full moon or when Ray gets in a mood and slips up somehow. Things feel different and he still doesn’t know where Ray vanished to last night.

“Fucking hell, Ray, what happened?” he asks - but Ray just whines again before falling miserably silent, unable to tell him in this form. A feeling of unease creeps over Michael slowly, crawling up his spine and making his stomach tingle. Ray might be back, but it’s quickly becoming obvious that something is very, very wrong here.

—

—

—

Summer.

“So when are we all gonna get together?” Ray asks.

Michael turns his head to look at him. It’s a stinking hot day and the house has no air conditioning, but there’s a huge tree overhanging part of the roof that leaves one corner in blissful shade. He and Ray have claimed it for their own for most of the summer, and they’re lounging here now, watching the clouds drift by in the bright sky above.

“What?” Michael asks.

“Y’know,” Ray says. “That seer who told you we were all gonna start banging each other. When’s that gonna happen?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Michael replies. He can feel his face going red and it’s not from the heat. He tries not to think of the prophecy much nowadays. Anyone with a lick of sense knows it’s a bad idea to start putting your hope in future telling. Things come about in their own ways and he… he doesn’t want to get his hopes up by starting to believe that it’s true, that one day they’re all gonna end up in some sort of weird giant six-way. The thought is still hard to wrap his mind around and he’s certainly not about to go all Macbeth on it and try to _make_ it happen. His friendship with the others is too precious to risk on something so uncertain.

“What?” Ray protests. “I mean it. When’s it gonna happen?”

“It probably _isn’t_ ,” Michael insists. “Jesus, I should never have told you. Why are you so enthusiastic about it anyway?”

“I dunno,” Ray says, a little defensive now. “Just weird, isn’t it, knowing that one day we’re apparently all gonna get together. It makes me look at you all differently, y’know?”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Michael grumbles, and they fall into silence. He knows what Ray’s thinking about because he’s thinking the same thing. The six of them are close - after all that’s happened to them, of course they are - but when he starts thinking about Geoff as more than a friend - of his comfortable ease with Jack suddenly running deeper - of doing more than just lie about with Gavin in the lounge or by the lake - of those tired smiles Ryan always gives him meaning something more-

It makes him nervous, and Michael does not like being nervous.

And there is Ray, of course, next to him. Ray who’s studiously avoiding looking at him now, even if whatever is on his mind has turned his cheeks red as well. Michael swallows, mouth suddenly very dry, because Ray’s been the closest to him for a long time and… and he doesn’t know where this is going, suddenly.

“Anyway,” he blurts out, just to break the silence. “Even if the six of us don’t go anywhere, it sure as hell looks like Gav and Ryan are gonna.”

Ray nods, latching eagerly onto the new topic.

“You’d think after everything that fucking happened they’d just make a move already!” he cries, throwing his hands up. “They gotta stop dancing around each other.”

Michael nods, and they both sigh, and settle back against the roof under the too-hot sun, falling into silence and their own thoughts.

—

Ah yes. Gavin and Ryan and the summer of the almost-gay.

For real, though, it’s starting to grow seriously frustrating to watch them. As the weather gets hotter - and hotter, and _hotter_ \- it feels like something is rising up around them. Not a bad sort of tension, just a stagnating sense of waiting and waiting for something to happen. It’s constantly there in the back of Michael’s mind as he watches the others that season. It’s the prophecy, too, making him look at every interaction with them with something more, some _possibility_ under everything that he can’t ignore.

Prophecy or not, there’s no denying they all get closer. The days blur into one another, a blend of _heat_ and the charcoal smell of barbecues out the back, and everyone piling down into Ryan’s lab where it’s relatively cooler, and ice lollies while sitting up on the roof, naps out on the hammock with the warm summer air wrapped around him like a wool blanket and waking up to find Geoff sitting near him blowing smoke rings. The demon is annoyingly unaffected by the heat - “Hell is hotter,” he always says - and is constantly bothering them by laughing and exclaiming at how much the rest of them are suffering. Prick.

Jack has the worst of it. He gets a bit dry and wilted when the weather’s like this and spends most of his time either sitting in the bathtub or with Gavin following him around with a spray bottle. He goes back out to the swamp, now and then, and Ray and Michael frequently go with him just because it’s so much cooler over there. It’s interesting, hanging out in that little group of three. Swapping stories or looking for mud fairies or bringing picnics out to the marshland. Even if it stinks and it’s full of flies, Michael can think of much worse places to be.

The days seem to drift along like half of them are a dream. Like they’re so long he forgets the nights spent sprawled above the covers trying desperately to keep cool - like it’s all one big, long blur under the influence of pixie dust, just the sun and the heat and the others-

And the lake. The lake is where they spend most of their time when Ryan finishes his work. Surrounded by huge trees and rushes, it’s slightly cooler there, and the water is always nice. In the three-day period when the weather hits the forties they seem to practically live there, napping through the relentlessly warm evenings, Geoff frying fish for them over his blue flames. Chocolate ices and beach towels and Jack sitting in the middle of the water like some immovable mass of kelp.

It’s during those three days that they really realise just how stupid it is that Ryan and Gavin aren’t together already yet, because Geoff somehow manages to convince Ryan to swim and Gavin makes absolutely no secret of how much he’s staring when the other man finally takes his shirt off.

Then again, it’s hard not to stare because it’s kind of blinding, really. Despite trekking out every day to look for fairies in the wood, it seems Ryan either bathes in sunscreen daily or is somehow physically incapable of tanning.

“Oh my God. It’s like staring at the surface of the moon,” Michael cries, and puts his sunglasses on. Ryan glares at him, crossing his arms over his pale chest.

“The moon? Don’t come near me Ryan, I might transform,” Ray says, and Jack falls about in fits of laughter.

“Get a tan Ryan,” Gavin calls out, from where he’s swimming in the lake nearby, though his eyes are fixed on the other man and there’s a funny, flustered grin on his face.

“I can give you a tan,” Geoff roars immediately, snapping his fingers to produce a small burst of blue flames.

“You’re all awful,” Ryan informs them, and then wades into the water and targets Gavin, swimming towards him with powerful strokes. Gavin doesn’t realise what’s going on until it’s too late, and he makes a desperate flailing attempt to get away before Ryan grabs him and dunks him under the water.

Ryan’s laughing and grinning more than Michael’s ever seen him before as the two of them engage in some sort of splash-battle, and it isn’t long before the rest of them pile into the water to join in.

It’s other things after that. Like how Ryan watches Gavin so fondly whenever the other man isn’t looking - his gaze settled on him comfortably seeming to drink in every inch of him. When Gavin’s sitting in the sunlight he looks a lot more human, washed out golden instead of pallid and dead the way he looked in the winter. And it’s a relief, for Michael as well, to see the other man smiling and happy again after everything that happened last year. 

It’s how Ryan licks all over his ice cream to stop Gavin stealing it and then Gavin takes a bite anyway. And how Gavin takes special care in slathering Ryan all over with sunscreen. How they’ll goad each other into the water and Gavin will insist on sitting on Ryan’s shoulders when they get to the deep bits - how Gavin takes about five hundred photographs of the other man, even when he’s not looking-

How when the sun finally sinks away and they’re sitting around the bed of smouldering coals - it’s too hot for a proper fire - and the air is thick with the sweet heady scent of the reeds and grilled bread and the faint sour water - Ryan lies down on his towel with his kindle in his hands, reading quietly, and Gavin curls up next to him with his head resting on Ryan’s stomach and falls asleep. After a while as Michael watches, Ryan’s hand comes absently down to settle in the other’s hair, stroking gently, something far too intimate in the motion.

God, they should just fucking _get together_ by now.

He tells Ray this, perhaps a little too loudly because Ryan glances over at them before looking away again. Ray’s next to him - both of them sitting against one of the large trees near the water, Ray on his DS as usual. Jack’s still in the water and Geoff is nearby talking to him. They pair off like this often, and Michael can’t even resent all of Gavin’s attention going to Ryan because he has Ray here with him now.

“They will eventually,” Ray replies, and gives a little grin. “We all will, apparently.”

“I told you to stop talking about that,” Michael says, but there’s no heat in it, and Ray’s smiling as he turns back to his DS. Michael doesn’t look away from him.

Gavin’s gotten a lot better since winter. But there’s such a huge change in Ray since they first met as well. And suddenly, this hot summer night out here by the quiet and peace of the lake - a desperate fondness rises up in Michael’s chest, so acute it nearly hurts. He likes Ray a great deal and can’t suddenly can’t quite imagine what it would be like if they’d never met.

He’s never been one to go all sappy about things, but suddenly he feels like he needs to say something. Like it’s the right moment or some shit like that. Because there are things they crave, people like them - the loners, the outcasts, the in-between, neither human nor quite fully fey. Some connection, some emotion, that souls starve without - and whatever it is, Michael’s found it here, and especially with Ray who was just as hungry as he was when they first met, and-

“I’m really glad we met,” he blurts out, and Ray looks up, surprised. Michael feels a funny nervous squirm in his belly; he’s never one to get flustered, but he feels strange now, like this is more important than he realised.

“I… I’m glad you’re my friend,” he adds, a bit awkwardly, and Ray stares at him a moment before smiling widely.

“I’m glad we met too,” he replies softly, and reaches out, touching Michael’s arm gently for a moment before letting his hand drop. He looks out at the others - Geoff’s splashing water over Jack now, and Ryan’s arm has dropped down over Gavin’s chest. “I’m glad all of us are here.”

Michael can only smile back, and as Ray turns back to his game he stares up, at the starry sky visible in patches through the leaves of the tree above them.

Summer is slow and still and stagnating, and things seem to be crawling along, unchanging. But it feels like they’re teetering on the brink of everything falling into place, and he thinks, suddenly, with some odd certainty, that as the heat fades away things will change with it.

—

—

—

“He’s not injured,” Ryan says, frowning and tapping his pen against his lips as he finishes his inspection of Ray.

“Then what the fuck is wrong with him?” Michael demands.

They’re all down in the lab, crowded around one of Ryan’s workbenches. Ray is lying down on it, still in his wolf form. Not so much as a flicker of change since Michael brought him back to the house. They’re all as confused as each other - Jack frowning, Gavin looking worried. Geoff implacable, but quiet enough that Michael knows he’s concerned too.

“I…. I don’t know,” Ryan admits, and a tense silence falls.

“Where’d he go out in the forest?” Jack asks after a moment. “We still don’t know what happened out there.”

Ray turns to him and whines, and Michael’s scowl deepens.

“Well, he can’t exactly fucking tell us in this form, can he?” he snaps - Jack turns to him with wide eyes and Michael forces himself to relax a little. He’s stressed, but getting angry won’t help anything. And Ray has to be even more freaked out than he is.

“Ray,” he says, more calmly, and turns to the wolf. “Can you take us out to where you were when this happened? When you transformed?”

Ray doesn’t move from the bench. He turns his head away and even if he can’t speak, there seems to be something almost reluctant in the motion. He’s not looking at Michael now, and after a moment Gavin reaches out and pats him on the head.

“It’s late,” he says. “It’s dark. Don’t go out into the woods at night.”

Ryan nods agreement. “I agree - it’s too dangerous to go out now. Maybe if Ray sleeps he might shift back. If he doesn’t, he can show us where in the woods he went tomorrow-”

Ray lets out a low growl, making them all jump - they glance around, poised for some sort of threat, but there’s nothing. Ray’s still not looking at any of them, and after a moment he jumps off the table and runs out of the lab, leaving them in silent confusion.

“What pissed him off?” Geoff asks, voicing what they’re all thinking, and Ryan sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Ray can’t control his shifts during the full moon,” he says. “They normally last until dawn.”

“The full moon was days ago,” Michael points out.

“I _know_ ,” Ryan replies. “But… I dunno. He might be able to sleep it off. I’ll look back through my notes on werewolves and see what I can come up with. In the meantime, give him a bit of space. It seems like he wants it.”

Gavin bites his lip but nods - Jack too - Geoff just raises his eyebrows before teleporting away in a cloud of blue smoke.

“I’ll go make dinner,” Jack says quietly, and puts a hand on Gavin’s shoulder, tugging him out of the room. They shut the door behind them, leaving Michael and Ryan in silence in the lab.

“Why doesn’t he want to show us what happened?” Michael asks, and Ryan sighs heavily, slumping down into the chair at his desk and running his hands through his hair.

“I don’t know, Michael. He’s probably just scared. If something did happen out there, he might be trying to keep us safe.”

“He was hiding under the car. Why wouldn’t he come back to the house?”

“I don’t _know_.” There’s raw frustration in Ryan’s tone, but he bites it back, swallowing hard before adding in a calmer voice, “It’s just frustrating that in this form he can’t tell us what happened. But I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

Michael looks away. Even with Ray back he feels unsettled, almost sick. Some knowledge hanging over him that something terrible has happened and they just don’t know what yet.

“What if he’s stuck like this permanently,” he begins - Ryan reaches out then and grabs his arm, squeezing gently.

“Don’t say that,” he says. “Werewolves have been around for hundreds of thousands of years. Something like this must have happened before. We’ll find out what and we’ll _fix it_. Okay? There’s magic all around us, nothing’s impossible. If I could bring Gavin back from the dead I can turn Ray back into a human. We’ll work it out.”

Michael nods. Ryan smiles at him, and his hand trails down Michael’s arm before he turns back to his desk.

“I’ll get started researching,” he says, and Michael nods.

“I won’t distract you.”

“Stay with Ray,” Ryan adds. “He seemed upset back there but you two… you two are close. If anyone can communicate with him, figure out what happened back there, it’ll be you.”

Michael manages a small smile at that before turning and leaving the lab.

—

It takes him a while to find Ray. For a moment he’s worried he’s run away again - but after looking around the whole house he finds him sitting out in the corner of the back porch, staring up at the moon. Michael sits down next to him and Ray turns his head to look at him before letting out a low whine.

“Hey buddy,” Michael says. “You doing okay?”

Ray turns his head to look at him. In the dark of the porch the whites of his eyes and the gleam of his teeth stand out. He seems hesitant - his fur standing on end again, so tense he’s nearly shaking - but when Michael cautiously rests a hand against his neck, he slowly relaxes, and after a moment stretches out and rests his heavy warm head in Michael’s lap. Michael scratches about his ears, running his fingers through the long thick fur. He doesn’t often get close to Ray in his wolf form. Ray usually tries to stay away from all of them when he’s shifted.

Michael leans against the wall of the house, trying to get more comfortable. There are moths trapped in the verandah light above them, fluttering about, casting odd shadows that keep making him startle, thinking something is moving nearby. There is something reassuring about Ray being here with him, warm against his side - but still, in his wolf form, it’s not the same as if he was human. Especially when he’s so quiet, nothing but his low pants breaking the silence.

“Don’t worry,” Michael murmurs, clutching at the fur of Ray’s neck. “You’re okay. We’re gonna fix this.”

Ray’s eye rolls to look at him and Michael stares back.

“You just gotta take us to where it happened,” he continues - but he feels Ray tense then, and after a moment the wolf pulls away, rolling off his lap and sitting up, practically turning his back. Michael sits up a bit, reaching out to prod at him.

“What? What is it?”

Silence.

“ _Ray_.”

He gets his arms around Ray, tugging to try and turn him around - but the wolf’s strong, and won’t budge, and after a moment Michael’s grip slips and he falls against the wooden deck, catching himself with a grunt. Ray turns to him, nose nudging at him in concern - when Michael sits up their eyes meet.

Ray looks scared.

Even as a wolf Michael can tell; his eyes are wide and terrified and under that… under that there’s something very sad, and pained. Something bad has happened and it’s killing him not to know what.

“Ray,” he pleads, “What’s going on? Come on, just fucking… _please_ , just help me… help me work this out… did you meet someone out there in the forest?”

He raises his hand the same way he did before, but Ray doesn’t touch it. Just looks away again.

“Did you choose to shift on your own?” he tries.

Still nothing.

“Are we in danger?” he adds, on a whim - and Ray turns away at that with another low growl. It’s not an angry growl, not even a scared one. Just something distressed in it, and he starts to walk down the stairs into the garden, but Michael reaches out and grabs at him.

“Don’t leave,” he blurts out, before he can stop himself. Ray freezes, and Michael keeps a hand on his back as he continues, “Please, don’t leave. I don’t know where you’re going but just… stay. Just _stay_ , okay?”

It comes out far too distressed. Far too scared, because whatever’s going on here, he doesn’t like it and he… he can’t lose Ray. He can’t lose Ray to whatever the fuck it is.

But Ray stays.

He turns around and pads back up the verandah and lies down against Michael’s side now, head buried against his knee, and Michael drops his arm down over him and feels his side rise and fall as he breathes, soothing and familiar. For a while they don’t talk. At least Ray’s here. At least he’s alive.

Then Michael pushes again.

“The full moon already passed,” he whispers. “We just need to know what _happened_. Why you transformed. And why you can’t change back. Can you… can you find some way to tell us?”

Ray doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even lift his head. After a moment Michael bites his lip.

“Do you not want to tell us?” he asks hesitantly.

Ray’s silence is telling, and Michael sighs heavily, feeling suddenly exhausted. He doesn’t know what’s going on, what he should _do_ -

But Ray still doesn’t leave. That’s something, at least.

—

After a while Michael goes to eat with the others. Ray slinks off back to his room. The meal takes place in a sombre silence, just him and Jack sitting at opposite ends of the table, picking at their food. Michael has little appetite and after a while goes back outside.

It’s dark out but he wants to clear his head, and he gets a broom out and starts sweeping the driveway of dead leaves. They’ll all be back come morning but he doesn’t really care; the cool fresh air and the repetitive motions are soothing, and he knows unless he completely tires himself out he’ll never be able to sleep tonight.

After a while he ventures down towards the end of the drive to get the last of the leaves, away from the brightness of the house. He pauses, looking down the hill towards the forest. 

It should be dark down there - but he can see, flickering gently just behind the treeline, faint glowing lights. Sometimes there for a second before vanishing, sometimes hovering for a long moment before drifting away. He’d think it was his eyes playing tricks on him if he didn’t know they were ghost lights, spirits, beginning their nightly walks through the trees.

He rubs his eyes, sighing heavily as he turns away.

Most ghosts are harmless. Michael knows this for a fact. He has seen sad ghosts, and angry ghosts, and lost ghosts, and hungry ghosts, but most of them are incorporeal, insubstantial things, no more capable of harming the living than a cobweb is. 

Of course there are others - but why should they be able to make Ray get stuck in his shift?

Still. The sight of the lights has him uncomfortable suddenly, and he turns and hurries back to the house, and the warm light, and the others.

—

As he passes by the living room Michael pauses, looking in.

Jack is sat on one of the couches, Ray sprawled out next to him with his head in his lap. Jack’s hand is nestled in the fur on Ray’s back, brushing gently through the strands and working out the occasional stick or leaf that’s stuck in there. Ray’s eyes are shut, panting contentedly, and Michael can’t help but smile a bit.

Jack’s a funny one. It’s always hard to tell what he’s thinking under the long strands of green that cover his entire body. The name ‘swamp monster’ had always made Michael assume they were just that - monsters, mindless, just creatures - but he’s rarely met _humans_ who are as intelligent or well spoken or _kind_ as Jack is.

And he makes an odd pair with Ray. They have vastly different interests and personalities. Ray’s quiet, sarcastic - Jack’s a bit more outspoken, has a different sort of humour - part of that was what had Michael doubting the prophecy this whole time. But he didn’t realise until now, seeing how relaxed Ray is with him in this form, just how much closer they’ve all gotten over the summer.

Maybe Michael can communicate with Ray but it’s Jack who’s keeping him calm now, and he feels a little more reassured that for now at least, they’re coping with the situation as he slips away down to the lab.

—

Ryan and Gavin are hunched over a massive book together when Michael enters the room, talking quietly. For all Gavin’s idiocy when they’re mucking around or going out to do fieldwork, he’s picked up a lot working with Ryan and Michael’s sometimes surprised by how focused he can get, how in the zone. They both look up when he comes in and offer small smiles.

“How is he?” Ryan asks.

Michael pulls a face. “I mean, he’s still a wolf. Still won’t tell me what’s wrong. You guys got anything so far?”

“The full moon’s the only time when wolves are forced to transform,” Gavin pipes up. “When Ray first met us he wasn’t really in control. He couldn’t control what he did in that form and half the time he couldn’t remember what he’d done. Now most of them time he’s like he is now - in the wolf’s body but still with his mind, still able to do whatever he wants.”

“It’s the same when he chooses to transform,” Ryan replies. “He’s in control and he can change back whenever he wants to. But remember when we first met him he used to shift all the time without meaning to?”

“He was getting used to it,” Michael muses. “He hadn’t been a werewolf long. Any time something set him off he’d run out of the house in case he turned. But he hasn’t had one of those in months.”

“I know,” Ryan replies. “But looking through all these books, unless someone cursed him to be in this body, the only times a wolf might turn without meaning to - might not be able to turn back - is if they’re gravely injured and trying to heal, or something traumatic happens.”

“Something traumatic?” Michael demands, feeling a sudden shock of fear.

Ryan nods.

“Emotionally,” he adds. “Or if he saw something - I don’t know. Remember when Gavin died, Ray was out all night on the moor? Something like that. Some sort of emotional shock that set him off. And maybe if it… if it’s still affecting him then that’s why he can’t change back yet. But at least he’s in control,” he adds, like that’s meant to be _reassuring_ -

Okay, it kind of is reassuring, but Michael’s still stuck on the fact that something awful’s happened to Ray - to _Ray_ , _his_ Ray - and they don’t know what.

“So how can we fix it?” he demands, and Ryan sighs.

“If I’m right, and this is what it is, well… we can’t. He’ll change back on his own when he’s worked through it. It could be hours, it could be days. After Gavin died he was back to human by the next morning, although he did keep turning sporadically after that.”

“I’m more worried,” Gavin pipes up, “About what happened to make him change in the first place. Like you said, boi, he’s been in control for months. It must’ve been something big.”

Michael nods, falling silent now. It makes sense. Why Ray would hide from them - why he won’t bring them out to the forest or tell them what’s wrong - but it’s horrifying to think that something so bad could have happened and he has no idea what, no idea how to fucking _help_ \- it makes him feel sick with helplessness.

He must look upset because Gavin stands up and comes over to him, and the next thing Michael knows he’s being pulled into a hug. He hugs Gavin back, taking comfort in the familiar way he fits into Michael’s arms, and the coldness of his skin everywhere but his chest, where his enchanted heart lights that one particular spot up warm to the touch. There’s something reassuring about feeling Gavin solid against him. They got him back last year. They got over everything that happened. If they can get through that they can get through this.

“Chin up, boi,” Gavin says when they pull apart, and Michael manages a smile. Ryan’s watching them both with something fond in his face.

“We’ll keep looking,” he says, fiddling with the pages of the book. “It might be something else we don’t know about yet.”

Michael nods, and Gavin squeezes his arm again before turning back to Ryan. Michael lingers in the doorway, watching the two of them - there’s something so easy, so fluid in the way they work together. And he’s the same with Gavin, he knows - with both of them, in fact. He fits right in when he helps with their experiments and their fieldwork. But right now everything in the house seems thrown out of balance by the fact that even if there are still six of them, one of them’s not _right_ , not there like he should be, and he sighs as he leaves the lab.

—

Geoff’s grilling bits of meat for Ray in the kitchen when Michael wanders past. He’s tossing them up into the air when he’s done and Ray’s jumping to catch them in his mouth. His reflexes are far better as a wolf than they’ve ever been as a human, and Michael pauses in the doorway to watch them.

“Good boy,” Geoff coos, as he tosses another bit of meat into the air, and Michael raises his eyebrows.

“You realise he’s not actually a dog,” he says. “It’s still _Ray_.”

“I know,” Geoff says, a bit defensively. “But I figure he should be praised because jumping for that meat is the most exercise he’s done in a long fucking time.”

Michael can’t help but laugh at that, despite himself - and Ray snaps at Geoff’s ankles, making the demon jump back.

“Alright, alright,” Geoff says fondly, and throws another morsel at him. He’s grinning widely and even Ray seems relaxed and playful, which makes Michael smile a bit, glad that he’s okay for now as he wanders back out to sit on the couch. Geoff can always be counted on to make one of them smile, and even now it’s nice to see them together. It’s funny, he never thought about Ray’s relationships with the others much until tonight. He thought about himself a lot, how could he not - thought about how Jack cared about him more than anyone else ever had, and how he got on tremendously with Geoff, being another immortal figure and so concerned with the afterlife and the dead that he and Michael had a lot of preoccupations in common.

So of course he thought about them. Of course he thought about whether he could ever fall in love with them, like he was apparently fucking _supposed_ to.

But he didn’t much consider whether Ray was all that close to them or not. He probably should have, given that if this… this six-way thing does happen, they’re _all_ gonna be involved. And looking at things now - it seems that Ray, too, has gotten close to the others. Being the last to arrive to the house, Michael knows it took him a bit more time to open up, to let his walls down.

But over the year that they’ve lived together, it seems like he has. Like they’ve all gotten closer than Michael ever realised.

He’s staring up at the water spotted ceiling, lost in thought and dozing off now and then, when he hears the quick pad of paws against the wood floor. He sits up in time to see Ray run across the room and stand by the window. In this form he’s just tall enough to see out.

Michael watches him for a long moment. Ray’s looking down the hill out at the forest, and Michael bites his lip. He knows in his human form Ray can’t see ghosts - but he wonders if he can as a wolf. They’ve never really talked about it before.

After a moment he rises and goes to stand next to him. Ray glances at him before turning back to the window. It seems like he’s looking for something, and Michael starts searching too. But there’s nothing but the stars and the moon and the ghost lights.

“Why won’t you show me what happened?” he asks finally - sees Ray’s hackles rise a little at the question. 

“Something did happen, didn’t it?” Michael continues, Ryan’s words at the back of his mind - but Ray doesn’t answer - _can’t_ answer - and Michael can only sigh.

He goes to bed soon after that, leaving Ray by the window - but barely has he closed the door behind him than he hears something scratching and scrabbling at it. Ray slips inside as soon as he opens it and leaps up onto his bed, settling down at the foot.

Michael’s eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t comment, just clambers in himself. It’s cool enough with autumn coming that he’s sleeping under a blanket again, and now there’s Ray at the end of his bed, a warm heavy weight that nudges against his feet if he stretches his legs out. It’s strange; they’ve shared a bed before, a number of times. Nights in the winter when Ray came into his room and they stayed up past midnight talking and eventually dropped off to sleep together. In the summer recently, too, when it was so hot that they brought all their fans into one room and turned them up full blast and lay on the floor, not touching, but piping up occasionally to complain about the heat.

And, of course, that awful, awful night a few days after Gavin died, when Ray slipped silently into his room and they huddled together, wordless, _broken_ , their only comfort each other’s touch-

Things feel a little like that now, odd and funnily sad like something very bad has happened. But the warmth of Ray still there at the end of his bed is reassuring enough that after a time Michael, exhausted, slips into uneasy sleep.

—

—

—

The height of summer feels like a dream. Michael remembers it in bits and pieces.

Running out into the garden to check out a funny egg Gavin found in the bushes, and forgetting to put his shoes on, and the pavement out back being so fucking hot that he can already feel his feet blistering and spends the entire time dancing and hopping about trying not to get burned.

“This ground’s so fucking hot that if you dropped that egg I think you could fry it on here,” he informs them, and Gavin _gasps_.

“Oh my God. Oh my God, Ryan, let’s fry the egg.”

“What? No! I’m going to take it back to the lab to investigate. I think it might be a cockatrice egg. Peculiar to find it in our garden though.”

Ryan’s already overly absorbed in it, cupping it gently in his hands as he carries it inside, muttering under his breath, and Gavin’s cackling and laughing at him, and Michael’s still trying to stop the bottom of his feet from baking.

“Gav, Gav, you gotta carry me back, the ground’s too hot,” he insists, and Gavin immediately opens his arms wide. Michael jumps into them and Gavin stumbles a bit at his sudden weight, but hefts Michael up and staggers back to the porch. Because he’s Gavin he trips when he gets to the stairs and they both fall onto the verandah steps. It’s ridiculous but all they can do is lie there for a moment, winded, laughing - Gavin’s face pressed in against Michael’s stomach and Michael’s hand resting against his hair, and his spine is bruised and it’s far too hot with Gavin sprawled on top of him but he can’t bring himself to move.

“Fucking weakling,” Michael says, “You could have killed me!”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a tragedy,” Gavin replies, rolling his eyes. “You can’t blame me, Michael, it was the other guy’s arm what dropped you.”

“Sure, blame the dead guy,” Michael says, but he’s grinning, just glad Gavin’s able to joke about his donated parts now.

“I can’t believe Ryan wouldn’t let us fry the egg,” Gavin complains then, and Michael can only laugh at him, and it’s all very bright and wonderful here in the sun with Gavin grinning at him, pressed close by his side even if it is too hot-

—

And there is cool, too, between the heat. Floating on his back out in the lake with Jack - the others have all gone back to the house now as too many mosquitoes came out, but the two of them lingered back behind. Michael’s lying here watching the sun sink away and the sky fade red to yellow, blue, indigo - it’s beautiful, and as it starts to get really dark he makes his way back to the shallows and sits next to Jack, leaning against his side - it’s comfortable, like a cushion of heather, and blissfully cool against the lingering evening warmth, their feet still dangling into the water where they sit on the sand of the lake bed. 

They talk then, until it’s far too late into the night. It’s nice being here just the two of them and Jack’s easy to tell things to. They talk about their families - a topic Michael rarely brings up, even if he finds himself admitting now that he still thinks about them sometimes, how they must be terribly old by now, probably dead, how he must have nieces and nephews out there all grown up who may never have even heard of him, of Uncle Michael who was murdered so long ago - Jack tells him of visitors to the swamp, hunters or witches or crooked humans coming to the marshland to bury their terrible deeds. A body can sink for a long time in the bog.

They get to know each other a lot better that night, and they spend so long out there that eventually Geoff comes searching for them and leads them back to the house by the light of his blue fire-

—

But it is Ray who the second half of that summer seems to linger the most in Michael’s memories. They just spend so much time together. Sitting in front of an army of electric fans working double time to push the heat back, playing DS together-

Lounging up on the roof sucking on frozen oranges, picking pips out of their teeth and seeing who can spit them the farthest-

Waking groggily from naps beside each other, because it’s far too easy to doze off in this weather, with sticky eyes and sweat clinging their shirts to their backs and their drinks melted beside them, and ending up lying there for an hour longer picking up their conversation where they left it off.

There’s just something very comfortable about being with Ray, something that’s made him such an integral part of Michael’s daily routine, that has him smiling to think about, that makes some small, secret, hopeful part of himself begin to imagine that maybe this might all work after all.

—

The day someone knocks on their door, they’ve just hit a cooler spell. The sound of someone outside makes Michael and Ray pause where they were sitting in the kitchen, glancing at each other - visitors are rare to the house and they haven’t had any in weeks now. It’s Ray who gets up and moves cautiously to answer it, Michael watching from the table.

There’s a gangly, spotty teenage boy standing outside, a large cardboard box at his feet, wearing a delivery man’s uniform. He glances up at Ray, looks at something scrawled on his hand, and says, “Delivery for Mr Haywood?”

“Oh,” Ray says - Ryan orders things regularly, books or equipment or resources - but normally they just get left at the door, not brought in person. “Yeah, he lives here - can you bring it in?”

“I guess,” the guy says, sounding a little put out. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat under his baseball cap, and he’s obviously not bothered to be out in this heat. But he grabs the box and moves past Ray into the house.

“The lab’s just down there,” Ray says, pointing to the stairs. 

The boy nods and heads towards it but with the box in front of his face he can’t really see where he’s going, and as he turns around the corner he bumps into Jack, who’s just coming out of the hall bathroom.

“Oh!” Jack says, surprised. “Sorry, dude-”

The guy takes one look at him and drops the box with a bloodcurdling scream. Jack flinches back; Michael rises from the table, Ray jumps a bit - the box hits the floor with a crash and the boy stumbles back, shrieking, raising a trembling finger to point at Jack.

“What - what - what - _what_ …” His voice is shaking horribly as he finally manages to force out, “What the _fuck is that_?”

“It’s okay,” Jack says frantically, raising his hands and taking a step back. “Don’t be scared, I won’t hurt you-”

“He’s a swamp monster,” Michael says, getting up and coming over - “It’s okay, dude, he’s totally peaceful-”

The boy spins to look at him and he recoils.

“Your eyes!” he cries, and Michael can only sigh.

He doesn’t get the ‘terrified’ reaction from humans much. Usually just a lot of staring, or people asking if he has some sort of fucked up eye disease. But it seems like this guy is so freaked out by Jack that anything out of the ordinary is only riling him up further. He’s obviously come all the way from the city, where most fey can pass as humans anyway, or at least don’t look as obviously non-human as Jack does.

“It’s _fine_ ,” he insists - but the guy just spins around, staring at Jack again.

“Oh God,” he cries, and tries to run for the door, but Michael’s in the way and he shoves him aside. Michael stumbles back, catching himself against the wall - but Ray, who was standing quietly in the hallway, starts forward as soon as he sees the boy push Michael. He lets out a fierce growl, and hair sprouts from his neck, his fangs emerging and claws coming out for a brief moment. It’s obviously instinctive, out of his control - and the boy staggers back away from him with another scream.

“Oh God, oh God,” he repeats, face white as a sheet now - he’s staring at Ray in terror and Ray quickly shifts back to human. He looks startled, like he didn’t mean to change, but it’s too late now. The boy turns and tries to run the other way, but bumps straight into Jack again.

“Please, calm down, you have to calm down,” Jack tries, but every word out of his mouth is just working the poor kid into a bigger and bigger frenzy. 

They’re making so much noise by this point that of course - of _course_ \- Geoff picks that moment to appear right next to them in a burst of blue flame.

“Hey, the fuck’s going on here, guys?” he drawls, and the delivery boy turns to him and just _squeaks_ , his mouth falling open in wordless terror as he collapses to the ground - not quite fainting, but close to it.

Michael feels mean, but he can’t deny that it’s kinda hilarious, if only because things just keep going ridiculously more wrong, and Geoff’s kind of just standing there crunching on a pear and staring down at the kid impassively. So he’s snickering away trying to stifle his laughter when Ryan and Gavin finally come up from the lab.

“What’s all this?” Ryan asks, taking in the situation.

The delivery boy is just rocking back and forth by this point, muttering “Oh my God, oh my God,” under his breath, his eyes rolling about as he stares at each of them in turn as though convinced this is some sort of dream. Ray’s fully human again by this point and he’s come up by Michael's side, oddly silent - Michael glances over at him and he looks a bit upset, but before he can ask why he’s distracted by another cry from the human.

“Oh my fucking God, what is that?” he demands, pointing at Gavin. “Zombie, is that a zombie-”

“Oi!” Gavin cries indignantly, hand going up to touch his stitched up face. “I don’t look _that_ dead, do I?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” the boy cries, curling up and covering his head, and Michael’s amusement fades away because he’s obviously genuinely fucking scared, and he feels a bit guilty now.

Ryan crouches next to him.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Hey - look at me - I’m human, okay? They’re not going to hurt you, alright? You must come from the city, I know it’s different there.”

There’s something very reassuring about how calm, how professional his voice is, and he looks up at the rest of them then and mouths ‘ _get out of here_.’ 

Fortunately Geoff’s not feeling like too much of a troll at the moment, because he obeys instantly, and the rest of them follow, shuffling out to the back of the house to stand about in the yard.

“That was fucking hilarious,” Geoff says, and promptly eats the entire rest of the pear, stem and core and all.

“He thought I was a zombie,” Gavin cuts in, sounding rather put out about it. “I don’t look like a zombie, do I, Geoff?”

“No,” Geoff assures him, reaching out and ruffling his hair. “He was just being an idiot.”

Gavin looks upset, though, and Michael realises suddenly that that was the first time another human has seen him since he got brought back. He’s avoided going out to town with Ryan like he used to, still too self conscious about the stitches on his face and his glowing eyes.

Jack just sighs.

“City humans,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You’d think with everything they see on TV they wouldn’t be as freaked out by us all.”

Ray’s gone to stand a little way away from the rest of them, and Michael, concerned, wanders over to him. He’s staring down at his hands, turning them over and rubbing them together, and when Michael pokes his shoulder he jumps a bit.

“Hey,” Michael says, and Ray forces a weak smile.

“Hey.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, but Michael’s not buying it.

“What’s up with you then?”

Ray bites his lip, but he’s quick to admit, “I couldn’t control that back there. When he shoved you I just - I dunno what came over me. I had my claws out and everything. I didn’t mean to.”

“I appreciate it,” Michael tells him, because that odd burst of protectiveness from the usually quiet Ray has something warm swelling up in his chest - but Ray shakes his head then, insistently.

“No, Michael, I couldn’t _control it_. He was fucking terrified of me.”

“He was terrified of all of us-”

“Geoff’s like a thousand years old,” Ray cuts in, “He can control his powers by now and even when he gets a bit flamey it’s never enough to seriously burn someone. Jack eats plants, for God’s sake, and Gavin couldn’t hurt someone if he tried but - but _I could_ , and I couldn’t _control it_ , and… I dunno. What if I’d hurt him without meaning to?”

“Ray…”

“Ryan thinks it was a wolf that killed Gavin, you know?” Ray adds then, in a hushed voice, glancing over at where Gavin and Geoff are now wrestling perilously close to the old fountain in the back garden.

“A normal wolf,” Michael cuts in, “Not a werewolf. You’ve been so good lately, Ray, you can control your full shifts. A bit of tooth and nail won’t hurt anyone-”

“You don’t _know_ that,” Ray says, voice rising in distress. “That kid in there looked at us like we… like we were _monsters_ and it’s probably because I was the only one of us in there who actually threatened him-”

“You’re not a monster,” Michael snaps, and grabs his hands. “You’re _not_ , okay? God, Ray, I know how they look at us. I’m all in-between, the _fey_ hate meas much as the humans do. And it stings, yeah, I can’t deny that, but it doesn’t fucking matter because here - the six of us - that’s the only thing that counts. _We_ know what we are. And you’re always scared of hurting people but the entire time I’ve known you you’ve never hurt a soul. Not when you’re fully shifted, not even when you’re out of control. You don’t need to be scared of it. I know what you are. You’re not a monster.”

Ray looks down, but he doesn’t pull away and it seems like he’s taking in the words.

“I’m all in-between as well,” he says quietly, after a moment. “A wolf with no pack.”

“But you have us,” Michael insists, and finally Ray gives a small smile.

“Yeah,” he replies, “I do.”

Michael squeezes his hands and Ray squeezes back.

“Who gives a fuck what people think when they look at us,” Michael repeats. “They don’t know us. You and I know Gavin, right? And you know me? So if you wouldn’t call the two of us monsters don’t fucking call yourself one.”

“Alright,” Ray replies, and his smile is more genuine this time. Michael smiles back, letting go of his hands to sling an arm around his shoulders instead, tugging him close. Ray isn’t usually the most tactile person but he leans into the touch now, laughing a bit, and Michael grins wider, feeling another odd surge of fondness for him as he pulls Ray to lead him back to the others.

—

—

—

Michael wakes at dawn the next morning, head pounding, exhausted and wrung out but not able to get back to sleep. When he feels a weight at the end of his bed he sits bolt upright, the events of the previous day slamming back into him-

Only for his heart to sink as he sees the mass of dark fur at the end of his bed.

_Damn it_ \- his fists clench - _he didn’t change back. He didn’t fucking change back_.

He feels sick suddenly. Dread heavy like nausea in his stomach and an awful fear lurking at the back of his mind. There’s no way he’s going to sleep now - but Ray is still curled up, breathing steadily, and Michael slips out of the bed silently so as not to wake him, pulling his jacket and jeans on before heading out of the house.

It’s colder this morning, and while the sun is up the sky’s still an overcast grey. It’s too silent outside this time of year - no birds - every noise too loud in the emptiness, the crunch of gravel and dry leaves under his feet as he heads down the hill towards the forest seeming deafening, rude, like a violation of some graveyard quiet. 

When he gets to the bottom of the hill and the gate leading into the forest trail, he pauses. There’s a grey man leaning against the fence beside the gate, head hanging down, feet trailing aimless patterns in the dirt. He’s dressed like a farmer - an old one, one from back when Michael was _alive_ -alive - and every slight breeze has his skin and clothes and hair wisping a little like smoke in the air. He doesn’t look up when Michael steps past him and opens the gate, and when he turns to look back at the man he’s disappeared, like a rainbow visible only from one side.

The sun’s come up. It means the ghosts are disappearing, fading slowly away, and as Michael wanders through the forest he sees a lot of them either walk away until they vanish or simply dissipate slowly as the light of day grows brighter around them. 

There are still a lot of them. Figures wandering listlessly through the trees - women, children, some young, some old. Some modern, some looking like they stepped out of last century.

Some not very human looking at all.

It’s different in the cities. City ghosts lurk in buildings, often bound to the specific places they died. But when ghosts manage to get out into the open country - they become lost, often. The elements buffet them every which way and sweep them out of shape. Horrifying, twisted things. Michael’s seen ghosts swollen into shapeless spheres - huge things, like clouds you can walk right through - or ones with long necks, spindly throats and stretched open mouths - ghosts with faces on their chests, or their limbs on backwards. Ghosts whose voices have turned to wind, who can only keen and wail and sigh.

Now as it shifts from dawn to morning, they’re barely visible around him. Just faint shapes of light that tickle as he steps right through them - they ignore him, nearly disappeared anyway, it’s in the dark of night that they’re more alert - he can hear their faint whispers and groans when he closes his eyes, feeling the occasional cold shiver as one sweeps past him on their way back to wherever the fuck they go during the daytime.

The snap of twigs makes him jump, his eyes flying open as he spins around in alarm - but it’s Ray who pads out of the undergrowth, trotting towards him. Michael relaxes, relieved - he’s on edge, knowing that something happened here.

“Hey,” he calls out. “You still can’t change back?”

Ray comes right up to him. His whine is as much of an answer as he can give, and Michael sighs, jamming his hands into his pockets to keep warm.

“Can you see them?” he asks, looking around at the last figures fading slowly away.

Ray just tilts his head, his eyes confused as he looks up at Michael. Well then.

They stand in silence for a moment - Michael watching the ghosts flicker to nothing, Ray nosing about in the piles of fallen leaves about their feet - then Michael turns back to him.

“You followed me out here,” he says, and Ray pauses, looking up at him again. “Can you… can you take me to where you were when you changed? Maybe I can find a way to change you back.”

As soon as he brings the topic up Ray stiffens, fur rising on end again. He turns away and Michael drops down to get at eye level with him.

“Ray,” he insists. “Please, help me fix this. I can help you, I… I’ve helped you before, haven’t I?”

Ray just refuses to look at him. But when Michael straightens up and starts to walk aimlessly, he follows - trotting along by his feet, brushing against his legs now and then as they journey on along the trek. Michael keeps an eye out for anything out of the ordinary, but all is as it should be this time of year. Even without answers, the fresh air and the exercise make him feel better, and it’s reassuring to have Ray by his side no matter what form he’s in.

—

It’s just past eight when they make their way back to the house. Ray starts growling halfway up the hill and Michael’s uneasy, unsure what he’s noticed - but he freezes when they crest the top of the road and he sees the police car parked outside the house.

He stops in his tracks, Ray growling next to him.

“What the fuck?” he wonders aloud - he recognises the car; it’s the country police who are in charge of this entire section of land and a couple of the little villages a ways out from the city. But what the hell are they doing _here_?

As he watches, the front door opens and a male and a female cop step out and head down the drive towards them. Michael stands, staring - they notice him and approach, eyebrows raised.

“You Michael Jones?” the male officer calls out.

Michael nods. “Yeah, that’s me. What’s going on here?”

The man ignores his question. “Where were you Wednesday night?”

“Here in the fucking house, why?” Michael asks.

“Specifically, what were you doing?” the man presses, and Michael’s eyebrows rise. But he wracks his brains, thinking - that was the night of the full moon. 

“I was helping Ryan move some equipment into the lab.”

“That checks out with what Haywood said,” the woman murmurs, and her partner nods. They both look down at Ray then.

“That a wolf?” the man demands, and Michael scowls, stepping in front of Ray protectively - he’s cowering back a little, oddly silent, making himself look as small as possible. He seems scared, and it makes something twist deep in Michael’s stomach.

“It’s my pet dog,” he replies curtly, and the officer’s eyebrows rise.

“That’s a pretty big dog.”

“No shit. Is there a problem here?”

The two officers glance at each other, then the man shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “But you should keep your dog on a leash.”

Michael just gives him a blank stare, and after a moment they get into their car and drive off. Michael watches them vanish down the hill before turning to Ray with a quizzical look.

“I wonder what that was all about,” he says - but Ray’s got his tail between his legs and his ears down flat, and Michael frowns. He hurries into the house - Ryan’s standing in the kitchen, Gavin sitting at the table next to him, both of them looking grim and serious. Jack’s standing in the corner, Geoff coming in from the back room.

“What the fuck’s going on?” Michael demands. “Why were the police here?”

“Sit down,” Ryan tells him - starting to feel worried, Michael obeys, Ray jumping up onto the chair beside him. Ryan casts the wolf a glance before turning to Michael again.

“There’s been a murder,” he says, and Michael gapes at him.

“What - what the _fuck_? Where? _Who_?”

“There’s an alchemist who lives across the forest from us. Not all that far away. Looks like she was killed by someone - or some _thing_ , the police can’t really tell. It was pretty bad, apparently.” He sighs heavily, and Michael can only stare at him.

“I… okay. When? Last night?”

“No, a bit ago. They only found the body two days ago. Looks like it happened Wednesday.”

“That’s fucked up,” Michael can only say, and looks around at the others - Gavin, face drawn and worried. Geoff and Jack uncharacteristically serious as well. “So there’s a fucking murderer on the loose now as well?”

“Apparently. They’re looking into it. They questioned us, but we all have an alibi for that night,” Ryan says. “After all, we were all here together, and Gavin was filming us that night because you and Geoff had that drinking bet - remember? So we can prove we were all here.”

Michael nods. “Right, yeah - they weren’t weird about, y’know, your house full of fey?” 

Most police are human - some squads of werewolves around now and then, or elves, but for the most part human - but Ryan shakes his head.

“They were fine,” he says, but his hand’s on Gavin’s shoulder now and the other man still hasn’t said much - Michael glances between them, eyes narrowing, wondering exactly what might have happened when the police came in here to break the news and presumably catalogue exactly how many people live in the house - and what _sort_ of people, too. “They don’t suspect us or anything.”

“I’m more worried about what the fuck killed her,” Geoff pipes up, and Ryan nods too.

“Me too. Her cottage is a bit too close for comfort. I’ve actually been down there a few times to trade samples. She was a nice lady. Tough, too - she could take care of herself. So if something killed her…” he trails off unhappily and Michael bites his lip. That lurking dread that’s been there since yesterday rising up again.

“Anyway,” Ryan says then. “Everyone be careful and don’t go wandering around alone, alright?”

He’s addressing all of them but his hand’s still resting on Gavin’s back, and Geoff and Jack are casting him careful looks too now. Michael knows they’re all thinking it because he’s thinking it as well - it’s too close to what happened last time. One of their own killed in the forest. And it’s at the back of his mind that if there is something out there - did Ray see it? Whoever, _whatever_ did this? 

But why should he not change back? It can’t just be fear, surely. Fear doesn’t normally make him turn. It’s things like anger, upset - hot feelings, not cold ones.

“This is _really_ fucked up,” Michael repeats, and Ryan can only nod. His hand slides off Gavin’s shoulder as he goes over to the coat stand in the hallway and starts pulling his jacket on.

“I’m gonna head down to the cottage to have a look,” he says. “Just to see if the police have taped it off or what.”

“No fucking way you’re going alone,” Geoff snaps. “I’m coming too.”

“And me,” Michael adds, because he needs to know what’s going on here - and of course, at that, Jack and Gavin come over too, and that is how all six of them end up heading off through the forest to investigate the murder scene.

There’s something funnily sombre as they walk, Ryan leading the way. The forest too quiet around them and all of them so tense. Michael’s trailing at the rear of the group when Jack falls back next to him.

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” he murmurs. “The thought that something’s out there.”

“Yeah,” Michael replies. He can’t die - he’s not scared of that - but he’s too aware of just how mortal Ryan is. Gavin, too, because none of them want to test if he can be brought back _twice_. “There’s always dangerous shit out in the woods though. People can get hurt.”

“I hope it’s just some creature,” Jack replies. “The thought of… of some human killer out here…”

Michael swallows, hard. There are enough horrors in their world already without some sort of human murderer being added to the mix. He nods, and looks at Jack then - hard as it is to read the swamp monster’s facial expressions, there seems something very frightened and vulnerable about him as he wanders through the forest, and Michael reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder for a moment. Jack looks over at him and manages a small smile.

The alchemist’s cottage is a small stone building on the other side of the forest to them. There’s police tape around the area but no cops, and no one to tell them to keep out. The door to the house - a sturdy wooden thing with several bolts - is swinging broken off its hinges. The flowerpots along the wall smashed. They stand behind the tape, staring for a moment at the mess.

“The police must’ve cleared off,” Gavin pipes up after a moment, uselessly. He’s hanging back a bit, arms wrapped around himself.

Ryan’s a little more brave; he’s right up against the tape staring at the house, and after a moment he lifts it and starts to duck under it.

“Ryan,” Geoff says warningly.

“I just want to look,” Ryan insists - despite the situation Michael can't help but smile a bit. Of course he wants to look. Fucking scientists want to poke their noses in everything. 

Geoff’s shaking his head, but Ryan goes into the house. Michael starts after him then pauses at a sudden racket, looking around for Ray. The wolf is hanging far back, growling and yelping frantically. He isn’t stopping them from going in, so there can’t be anything actually in there - but he seems terrified, eyes huge and white, teeth bared, tail huge and bushy and on end. Michael bites his lip - but he needs to know what’s going on, so he heads in after Ryan.

Inside the house it is dark and too-quiet. There is an awful feeling in there, something death-thick and heavy that makes shivers run down Michael’s spine and his hair stand up on end. It smells like disinfectant, whatever the police used to clean up - but no matter how much they scrubbed they couldn’t get rid of the blood. It’s everywhere, spattered across the walls and on the small bed in the corner of the cottage - it’s all one room, separated by screens - the windows are broken and the alchemy lab on the side of the room is smashed to pieces too, though it seems the police cleaned that up as well.

Ryan stands in the centre of the room, staring around.

“What the fuck happened here,” he says - he starts forward but Michael grabs at his arm.

“Don’t touch anything.”

“I won’t,” Ryan assures him. He moves over to the wall, peering in close, and Michael moves up next to him. In the dim light he can just make out the long scratches of claw marks in the stone.

“Not a human,” he says, and Ryan nods.

“Definitely not a human.”

“Oh God, ohhhh God,” a voice says behind them - they turn to see Geoff hanging back in the doorway, wringing his hands.

“What?” Michael asks, and then notices how wide Geoff’s eyes are. “Jesus Christ, are you _scared_? You’re a fucking _demon_ , as if you haven’t seen worse before.”

“I can’t deal with this horror shit, man.” Geoff shakes his head and beckons them. “Get out of there, both of you. We shouldn’t stay here.”

“Whatever it was, it was strong,” Ryan says - he’s looking at the floor now and the tiles are chipped and cracked underfoot, like something heavy landed on them or struck them with enough force to break the stone. 

“Come _on_ ,” Geoff insists, and reaches out, grabbing Michael’s wrist and tugging him towards the door. Michael follows him and Ryan leaves as well then. It’s a relief to get out into the open air.

Gavin and Jack are hanging well back, both looking steadily more freaked out. Ray is beside them, still growling.

“Some sort of beast,” Ryan says, and Michael moves to Gavin’s side, looping his arm through the other man’s and tugging him close. Gavin leans into him, offering him a weak smile - he looks worried, and it unnerves Michael a bit. A year ago Gavin was pretty damn fearless, would probably have suggested they go on some sort of monster hunt. Now he’s just scared, and Michael remembers suddenly that they never found out what killed him in the forest that night. It could well still be out here. It could well be this _thing_ , whatever it was.

“I don’t like this,” Jack says quietly, and Geoff nods.

“Until the police or I deal with whatever the fuck this is,” he snaps, “You all stay in the damn house. Got it?”

They’re silent, and Geoff rounds on Ryan.

“I fucking mean it,” he insists, “You do your experiments from home. This thing is still out there and you’re not safe. _Especially_ you.”

Ryan hesitates, then nods. There’s a fierce desperation in Geoff’s face - the fire between his horns flaring up tall and strong - but it softens a little after a moment and he reaches out and squeezes Ryan’s shoulder.

“God,” he sighs, turning away. “It’s not even winter yet and the wood’s already full of monsters.”

“You think the police can really track down this thing?” Jack asks.

Ryan nods. “It’s their job. They’ve dealt with things in these parts before. I’ll call the station when we get back and ask them to keep us updated.”

“Let’s go home,” Gavin says - the others all nod. They’ve walked through these woods so many times that it’s like a second home, but suddenly everything seems unfamiliar - bleak with the white sky above them and the dead leaves falling from the trees - something sinister about the silence.

Ray is still panting heavily and obviously distressed, and Michael watches him, worried, as they start to walk away. He glances back over his shoulder at the cottage, the small building sticking out in the clearing like a tombstone.

_Is this what you saw?_ he wonders, and looks down at Ray - slinking along with his tail between his legs - but he doesn’t know how to ask, doesn’t know how Ray can tell him. Or what he might have seen.

It’s nagging at him, like the pieces are all there if he could just put them together - but he can’t quite work it out yet.

—

The rest of the day seems to pass excruciatingly slowly.

Ryan and Gavin are still down in the lab, researching what might have happened to Ray - Jack’s helping them, and Geoff, for all that he seemed scared back at the cottage, has gone off to search for whatever might’ve done this. Demons can’t get hurt, after all, so he’s equipped to deal with it if he does find whatever the fuck it is.

Michael dithers about, feeling useless. He heads down to the lab now and then, or tries to distract himself playing video games. But it’s not the same without Ray there, and after a while he gives up and just cleans the entire house to give himself something to do.

By the time night falls they’re all worked up and tense, especially when Geoff returns none the wiser as to what’s out there and Ryan’s still empty handed. 

They’re all quiet that night, unwilling to admit how worried they are. After dinner Ryan and Jack go around locking all the windows. It gives an odd sense of finality to everything, like they’re shutting themselves away.

Michael goes out to the front porch and looks out at the forest. As it grows dark he watches the ghost lights start to appear, one by one. They don’t scare him - but the forest does, the dark spaces in between. He feels, suddenly, like something is watching them. Like the house, that little beacon of light atop the hill, is no longer safe but a target, and every shadow is filled to the brim with some evil just waiting for them to let their guard down, and if he turns his back for a second something will pounce on it.

It’s unpleasant, and it takes him a long time to jerk himself out of it enough to actually go back inside. He doesn’t want to turn his back to the forest. It really does feel like there’s something looking at them, unseen. But finally he does, and heads out to the back instead, where Ray’s been hiding all day.

The wolf’s at least come up onto the porch now, and Michael sits down next to him.

“This is fucking horrible,” he says, and Ray just lets out a soft sort of whimper. Michael glances over at him, worried - he’s been so quiet all day, hiding away from them all since they went out to the cottage.

“Ray,” he begins quietly. “I know when… when you get emotional you shift. And sometimes you can’t shift back until you’re not angry, or upset any more, or whatever it is that made you change in the first place.”

Ray’s gone stiff, but he doesn’t leave, and Michael pushes on.

“I’ve never seen you turn because you’re scared before. But Ryan said something traumatic can make it happen, and it can’t be a coincidence that there’s suddenly some monster out there right after you get stuck like this. Did you see something? Did you… did you wander over to the cottage that night and - oh God, you didn’t find the body, did you?”

Ray lets out a distressed sort of keening noise, and Michael’s stomach drops.

“Ray - Jesus fucking Christ, dude, please tell me you didn’t find the body. Oh my God...”

Ray lays his head on the ground, bringing his paws up protectively, and Michael can only sit, frozen, horrified - even just finding the bloodstained cottage was bad enough when they were expecting it. To find whatever mess the police must have stumbled upon would be ten times worse and it’s just - it _hurts_ , to think of that happening to Ray, but-

Something’s still not quite right. 

He reaches out, settling a hand in Ray’s fur, stroking gently to try and calm him down. He can feel him shivering and bites his lip, his stomach twisting.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers - his own voice is shaky but he can’t think what else to do, to say. “Come on, you’re okay-”

Wait.

It was two days ago when Ray went out on his own. That’s when Ryan said the police found the body. But Ray left the house pretty late and if the cops were there during the day they’d’ve already been there when he arrived. There’s no way Ray could have been first on the scene, right? The police would have noticed and come to the house to question them far sooner, and besides, if he’d found a murdered body and hadn’t called the police, he would surely have at least come home to warn them, not hidden all night when there was some sort of monster on the loose. Right?

Ray’s still shaking, letting out awful little huffs of breath, and Michael sets his thoughts aside, focused on rubbing his back and making soothing noises. But he needs to get to the bottom of this, and as soon as Ray’s settled down a bit he asks again - calmly - “Ray, I have to know. You couldn’t have been the first to find the body, could you?”

He holds up his hand again. Ray doesn’t touch it, his head hanging down still - but Michael can tell he’s listening, his ears pricked back.

“Did you go to the cottage when you went for your walk?” he asks. He needs to confirm that at least.

Ray is silent for a long moment. Then, hesitantly, he lifts his head from his paws and nudges his nose against Michael’s hand.

Okay then. Okay.

“Were the police already there when you arrived?”

Another nudge. Michael frowns, trying to puzzle this out. Ray can’t speak but he knows his friend, so closely by now - he has to be able to do this.  All the pieces are there, he just needs to put them together. 

“So you heard about what happened from the police,” he repeats, and Ray touches his hand again - Michael bites his lip, trying to work this out.

_So he didn’t find the body. Then what could traumatise him so much? What would the police have said? They’d have asked him questions. Who he was, where he lived, what he was doing the night it happened-_

_The night of the full moon._

Oh God - it can’t be - it all comes flooding in now. _Ryan thinks it was a wolf that killed Gavin_. How this is too close, too close, too close to all that happened last year, and how he remembers now, how quiet and pensive he’s seen Ray get after a bad shift - _monster_ -

“Ray,” he says slowly, hesitantly, “You don’t think _you_ did it.”

Ray just lets out a horrible, strangled sort of whine, and Michael’s heart drops. He holds out his hand again, needing to confirm this, to make _sure_ -

“ _Ray_ ,” he insists, and he’s hard pressed to keep his voice calm and flat, “You… you think you killed her?”

A long pause, horribly silent - then Ray’s head rocks against his hand and Michael feels something nearly break inside him as he realises exactly what’s going on here.

“Oh God, Ray,” he says - nearly babbling now as his hands run through Ray’s fur, desperate to reassure him in some way, _any_ way - “You didn’t - of course you didn’t - Jesus fucking Christ. You came right back after you’d turned that full moon. Remember, I asked if you wanted me to come out with you? But you said you were fine. I watched you leave; you didn’t go into the forest. You headed for the moor. And when you came back you were fine. Tired but _fine_. It wasn’t you who did this, Ray - I _promise_.”

Ray just continues to let out choking whines, curled in on himself now, Michael’s heart breaking with every awful little noise. 

But he thinks back to the cottage, and the blood, and the claw marks in the wall - it could have been a wolf. And Ray’s strong enough to break a door down. But it wasn’t _him_ , Michael knows it, and the thought of him believing that he’s, what - _killed_ someone - 

“Fuck,” he whispers, “ _Fuck_ \- okay, do you remember your last shift? During the full moon?”

Nowadays Ray’s normally fully in control and conscious of everything he’s doing when he turns. But Ray doesn’t nudge his hand now, and Michael remembers how tired he was when he came back to the house that night - dragging his feet, listless, heading immediately off to bed - he’d brushed it off as just a long night and tiring to run around in the hot weather, but maybe Ray _doesn’t_ remember. Maybe it was one of those shifts that takes vicious hold of him and has him burning all his energy out so that he can barely remember anything he did in wolf form come morning.

But God, _God_ , he would never _kill_ anyone-

“This is why you’re stuck,” he says, “Isn’t it? You think you did it, this is why you can’t change back…” He must still be holding onto all those emotions, guilt, fear, anger at _himself_ \- God, no wonder he didn’t come back to the house that night - no wonder Michael hasn’t seen him hang around Ryan or Gavin much since he returned if he thinks that he hurt someone so badly in his wolf form-

“It wasn’t you,” he cries, and tugs at Ray until the wolf is sitting up a bit. “You would never fucking hurt someone, Ray. You gotta believe me.”

The problem is, he doesn’t.

The problem is, this has been Ray’s worst fear for so long, and now that there’s a chance it might’ve happened - of course he can’t shake it from his mind. 

“It was something else,” Michael insists. “You’ll see. Geoff’ll find them.”

Except what if he doesn’t?

Because monsters can move on - leave the forest, head off somewhere far away and they might never know who actually did this. And if they never know, then _Ray_ can never know that he didn’t do it - and how can Michael convince him?

The truth about all this has him sick and silent and not sure what to do, because Ray’s just lying there now, breathing heavily, and in this form Michael’s hard pressed to know what he’s thinking. What he can do to help him. After a moment he starts to get up - but Ray reacts to that, leaping to his feet and getting between Michael and the door, staring up at him and snarling frantically.

“What?” Michael asks. “Do you want to take me somewhere else?”

Ray shakes his head and blocks Michael again when he tries to go back inside.

“You don’t want me to go in?” Michael guesses, then realises, “Oh - you don’t want me to tell the others?”

Ray hangs his head and Michael drops to his knees, reaching out to pull him into an awkward sort of hug.

“Ray,” he pleads. “Fuck, dude, you… you didn’t _do_ this, please believe this wasn’t you - I _know_ it wasn’t you-”

Ray’s head burrows into his shoulder, but he’s silent and Michael knows he doesn’t believe him. And he just. Doesn’t know what to _do_ , because there’s that pain, in all of them, especially the ones that used to be human. That fear of what they’ve lost and what they’ve become and how they might corrupt those around them purely by being what they are. He sees it in Gavin. He sees it in _himself_. And Ray has the worst of it, for a number of reasons, and he can’t even imagine how much this must hurt, especially trapped in a form where Ray can’t even express himself properly, can’t even grieve. Can’t even hug Michael back now.

“I’m gonna fix this,” Michael murmurs against the thick fur of Ray’s neck. “I promise, I’m gonna fix this.”

Except he has no fucking idea how, yet, and he’s pretty sure Ray doesn’t believe him. But he has to - he _has_ to, with a burning resolve already rising up in his chest - he has to fix this, for Ray.

—

—

—

There’s a full moon one night in the summer. Ray leaves the house as he usually does - it’s routine by now, and he’s normally well in control of it, and he heads out to the forest after cheerfully waving Michael off and saying he’ll be back in the morning. Michael doesn’t go out with him. It’s too hot. He wants to stay indoors.

Except it’s not just hot, it’s humid, some electric tingle in the air, and halfway through the night the sky clouds over and there’s a massive thunderstorm. Great cracks and crashes of lightning that make the house tremble under them and rain so heavy that the roof starts leaking in a few places.

“Someone pissed off Thor,” Geoff observes, in that deadpan voice that always leaves them not quite sure whether he’s serious or just trolling them. He’s terrifically unhelpful when it comes to telling them about whatever the weird demon-world he comes from is. It’s all just terrible, vague descriptions like “it’s really hot” and “well there’s a lot of fucking fire” and “oh, Lucifer, yeah he’s an asshole” without actually telling them what the fuck it is. Michael’s pretty sure he just does it to rile up Ryan.

But he can’t bring himself to laugh now, not when Ray’s still out there, and he’s staring out the window at the rain flooding the patio when Jack comes up next to him.

“He’ll be fine,” Jack says gently, and Michael forces a smile.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Some werewolf packs live outdoors. Spend most time in their wolf form. They’re used to the elements.”

Michael nods, and tries not to worry - Ray’s a grown ass man after all, he can take care of himself in a bit of rain - and distracts himself the rest of the night watching Gavin fail horribly at beer pong against Geoff and bickering over whether it’s true you can get struck by lightning while sitting in a car.

When morning comes the storm’s cleared up but it’s still drizzling, and Michael heads out of the house at dawn with towels and an umbrella, hoping to meet Ray on his way back to the house. It’s all slippery and muddy on the trek down to the forest and when he sees Ray plodding up the hill towards the house he nearly falls on his ass running to meet him.

“Hey! Big fucking storm last night wasn’t- Jesus fucking Christ, Ray, what the fuck happened to you?”

Ray stares up at him, eyes very tired. He’s drenched - hair plastered to his head, clothes soaked through and clinging to him - but there’s blood all around his mouth, dried down his chin and throat too, and Michael grabs hold of his face, turning it this way and that trying to see if he’s injured. Ray bats his hands away gently.

“I’m fine,” he croaks out, and clears his throat a few times. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt.”

“You’re fucking covered in blood, dude,” Michael points out, trying to keep calm - and Ray lets out a humourless little laugh.

“I killed a rabbit. I think. Oh God, okay,” he adds then, and turns and throws up. Michael steadies him, rubbing his back passing him a bottle of water when he’s finished. Ray’s trembling and Michael frowns - it’s normally a lot better than this. Normally, now, Ray comes back from his forced shifts tired but fine. Calmer than this. Now he’s quiet and shaking still and there’s something too carefully blank about his face.

“Are you alright?” he asks again, quietly - Ray doesn’t answer, and Michael frowns, moving to put a towel around his shoulders. Ray doesn’t push him away, just stands and lets Michael dry his hair and then clean the blood off his face with a corner of one of the towels. He’s still shivering, despite the sun starting to peek out between the clouds now, and Michael takes off his own jacket and tucks it around his shoulders.

“Come on,” he says. “Back to the house. Ryan should check you out.”

“I’m fine,” Ray insists, unconvincingly, but when Michael takes him by the arm and tugs him along he sighs and follows.

It’s early enough that the others are still asleep when they enter; the house quiet and peaceful. But Ryan will be up, Michael knows. He’s always up.

When they enter the lab the scientist looks up, startled at first before he smiles. He’s at the computer watching some of their footage from yesterday, a steaming mug of coffee beside him. Tired - the storm made it hard for all of them to sleep - but his grin fades a bit at the look on their faces.

“What happened?” he asks, already getting up.

Michael pushes Ray to sit down on one of the lab benches.

“He killed a rabbit in this form,” he pipes up, when Ray doesn’t say anything. There’s still some dried blood on his chin and Michael’s vaguely worried that he might have swallowed a bone or something and it’ll suddenly choke him to death now that he’s back in human form.

Ryan raises his eyebrows, looking intrigued more than surprised.

“That’s pretty normal for wolves,” he tells Ray, who glances away, looking embarrassed now. “Packs often go hunting during the full moon.”

“Maybe some werewolves do,” Ray shoots back, “But I don’t exactly make a habit of fucking going around eating raw animals Ryan. Oh my God.” He looks a bit sick again and Michael rubs his back. After a moment Ray recovers himself and sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t remember what happened,” he admits.

“You seemed fine when you left,” Michael pipes up quietly.

“I know,” Ray replies. “That’s what’s freaking me out. I’m normally in control of my shifts now! But last night’s all just a blur. I don’t remember anything I did. I just woke up this morning and, y’know, realised I’d fucking _killed a rabbit._ Like it was not great. Not fun.”

Ryan frowns, but he looks thoughtful.

“The storm may have shocked you,” he suggests. “It came out of nowhere. Might have freaked you out enough that you went wild the way you used to.”

Ray just covers his face again.

“I thought I was over these turns,” he says miserably, and Ryan looks sad now, stepping closer to him.

“Ray,” he says gently. “You’re actually doing extremely well, considering. Werewolves are meant to have a pack who go through shifts with them. Older members who’ve been turned longer who can help the newer ones adjust. It’s easier to stay control, to know what you’re doing, when you’re surrounded by other wolves you can communicate with. You don’t have that - but you’ve been doing so well this last year, working things out by yourself. One slip up doesn’t mean you’ve lost all that progress. You can still turn on command, right?”

“Yeah,” Ray replies, and half-heartedly raises a hand, letting his claws shift out for a moment before disappearing again.

Ryan smiles. “And you’re still in control when you choose to turn?”

“I am.”

“Then you’ll be fine,” Ryan assures him. “These things aren’t just linear progress. There are ups and downs. Just because you had a down doesn’t mean you’ve fallen all the way back to the bottom.”

“But I _killed something_ ,” Ray insists - he keeps swallowing, like he’s trying to get rid of some awful taste. Michael squeezes his shoulder, uneasy.

“It’s just a rabbit,” he says. “We eat meat all the time.”

“We don’t pounce on it in the forest and kill it,” Ray says drily, and sighs. “I just feel… I dunno. Really gross.”

Michael bites his lip. He doesn’t want to argue with him, to keep trying to insist on things he knows he can’t convince Ray of right now. Because it’s understandable, of course it is, that he’d be rattled. To wake up and realise you’d _killed_ something - even an animal - God, he can’t even imagine how shaken up he’d be. He reaches out instead and squeezes Ray’s shoulder again, rubbing gently.

Ryan steps forward too then, but Ray flinches back.

“Don’t,” he begins warningly, but Ryan keeps approaching.

“You won’t hurt me,” he says confidently - Ray’s eyes are wide and Michael can feel him trembling under his touch, but he sits still and he doesn’t tense even when Ryan reaches to tilt his head up, checking his eyes, his teeth.

“You’re okay,” he says once he’s inspected him. He doesn’t step back, holding eye contact with Ray. “You’re fine, you’re in control, and you’re not going to hurt us. Okay?”

“Alright,” Ray replies. He’s calmed down a bit since entering the house and he manages a shaky smile now. “Don’t… don’t tell Gavin about this, by the way.”

Ryan scoffs out a laugh.

“Sure,” he says, and Ray’s smile is a little more genuine this time.

They’re fine.

Ray’s quiet the rest of the day, and Michael gives him his space, heading back to his room to catch up on missed sleep. But after a time Ray knocks quietly on his door and slips in and lies down next to Michael, just close enough for their shoulders to touch, and they doze off beside each other and when they wake up the rain has cleared up and there’s warm sunlight painting the room up bright, and they sit out on the patio and eat watermelon and with the taste of blood gone from his mouth Ray starts smiling again. Later they play Xbox. They’re fine.

They’re fine.

—

—

—

The house is dark, silent and still when Michael slips out of his bed and puts his shoes on. Ray isn’t in his room tonight - was sleeping in the living room last Michael saw him - but he’s still careful to be quiet as he pulls his jacket on and checks the time - just past one in the morning - before creeping down the stairs.

It’s hard to move quietly in here. Every step creaks and his footsteps seem too loud on the hard wooden floors. But he picks his way towards the front door, using his phone as a light, and thinks he’s about to get away with sneaking out when he hears a noise behind him.

“Michael? What are you doing?”

He freezes, turning. Gavin’s standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at him, a glass of water in hand. His hair is tousled like he just got out of bed and in the dark hallway his eyes glow like a cat’s, enchantment-blue. Michael knows his are the same.

“Go to bed, Gavin,” he says, a bit helplessly, but Gavin puts the glass on the kitchen table and shuffles towards him.

“You’re leaving,” he says. “Why?”

Michael hesitates.

“I’m sorting out what happened with Ray,” he says, and Gavin tilts his head.

“What do you mean? What happened?”

Michael pauses. But he can’t lie to Gavin, not here in the middle of the night when he really needs to get going.

“Ray can’t remember what happened when he shifted during the last full moon,” he explains. “He’s convinced he’s the monster who killed that alchemist. That he couldn’t control himself in his wolf form and did it and can’t remember it now. It’s why he can’t shift back.”

“Oh my God.” Gavin’s eyes are huge. “That’s… that’s-”

“Ridiculous, I know,” Michael says. “But I can’t fucking convince him otherwise. You know what Ray’s like. He’s so scared of losing control.”

“Poor Ray,” Gavin whispers - he looks upset, but he glances between Michael and the door now. “So where are you going now?”

“You know I can see ghosts,” Michael says, and Gavin nods. “The forest is full of them this time of year. There’s no way that woman’s spirit isn’t wandering around out there, not after the way she died. I’m going to find her and find out what really happened. If I find out what actually killed her, I can prove to Ray it wasn’t him-”

There’s a low growl from the living room door and they both turn to see Ray standing there, watching them. Michael stiffens, realising he heard everything.

“Ray,” Gavin says, crouching. He reaches for the wolf but Ray shies away - running over to Michael instead. He growls again, trying to get between him and the door, but Michael pushes past him, opening it anyway.

“I’m gonna find out who did it,” he says. “I swear, Ray, it wasn’t you. I’m gonna prove it. I know why you think you did this, but you’re wrong. You’re not a monster.” He glances at Gavin again, who’s straightened up now, then back at Ray. “None of us are monsters.”

Gavin presses his lips together, looking pained. Ray is staring up at Michael too, breathing heavily - but after a moment he steps out of the way, leaving the path to the door free.

“You should wake up Ryan,” Gavin says then, as Michael goes to the cupboard beside the door to get a torch. “And Geoff - we should all go out.”

“No,” Michael snaps. “They won’t let us go out at night. Too dangerous. But the ghosts will be gone by morning. I have to do this now in case her spirit fades.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” Gavin says, with little hesitation - before Michael can protest he’s already grabbing his own coat. 

“It’s dangerous,” Michael starts, grabbing his arm - Gavin shakes him off. He licks his lips nervously but there’s determination in his eyes as he meets Michael’s gaze.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” he replies, though his voice shakes a little. “I need to do this too, Michael.”

Michael stares back at him - but he gets it, somehow, because this whole situation has to be shitty as fuck for Gavin. Bringing back too much, reminding him of that awful blank spot in his memory where he knows he died - violently - but can’t remember how. Michael’s not sure that attempting to face those lingering fears by heading into such a dangerous situation will help - but if Gavin _doesn’t_ do this now he’ll always wonder if he should have. So he nods.

“Okay,” he replies. “Okay.”

Gavin smiles a bit. He grabs a torch too and they slip out of the house quietly, Ray padding along behind them.

—

Since he died and came back Michael has not been scared of much. It is hard to be afraid of things when you know nothing can hurt you, can kill you. When nothing that happens really has consequences.

But there is something very eerie about leaving the house now and heading down the hill towards the forest. It’s very dark, the moon clouded over and providing only the weakest strands of light, and there’s a chill in the air that he doesn’t like. The hair on the back of his neck is standing all on end, and he still has that awful feeling of something _watching_ them. Out here in the country everything seems too silent, too far-away, like they’re alone on some distant planet, no one to hear them scream.

Gavin’s quiet where he’s trudging along behind him, but Michael can hear him breathing heavily, and as they reach the bottom of the hill and start along the path leading for the forest, Michael turns towards him.

“You okay, boi?” he asks, and Gavin glances at him. In the dark Michael can barely see his small smile.

“Yeah,” Gavin replies, but his voice is a little shaky, and Michael stops walking and reaches out to press his arm.

“You don’t have to come you know.”

“I know,” Gavin replies, and takes a deep breath. “But I want to.”

There’s a moment of silence. Ray has stopped too and is standing, staring silently up at them - after a moment Gavin turns towards him, ducking down a bit.

“Ray,” he says. “This wasn’t you, Ray.”

Ray turns his head away but Gavin reaches out and touches his side.

“But I can get why you might believe it is,” he continues. “It’s kinda… I… I don’t remember stuff too. I don’t remember what happened the night I died and having a big hole in your memory like that is… it fucks with your head. I can’t even imagine what it’d be like having it happen so often like it does to you.”

Ray turns back to him, eyes wide, and Gavin straightens up, glancing at Michael then.

“I get really scared at night sometimes,” he admits - Michael stiffens. Normally Gavin doesn’t like to talk about what’s going on with him much. Since everything that happened last year… he’s been dealing with things, but quietly. Mostly preferring the others to try and keep things as normal and happy as possible. But he swallows, now, shoulders straightening as he looks towards the forest. “But I… I want to face this. I need to, I think.”

Michael nods, feeling a warm surge of something like pride at the determination in Gavin’s voice - and Ray whines too, then, and then rears suddenly up onto his hind legs, his paws resting on Gavin’s shoulders - Gavin makes a startled noise, stumbling a bit under his weight. When he stands up like this Ray’s as tall as he is. But the wolf just leans in, nuzzling at the side of Gavin’s face, and Gavin lets out a startled noise, stroking a hand over Ray’s back before he drops back to the ground again.

“Gross,” he says, wiping at his cheek where Ray licked him - but he’s smiling now, and Michael is too, and even Ray seems less on-edge, less bristling and tense. All of them less unsettled as they continue on down the path.

They’ve fallen back into silence by the time they reach the forest, and Michael’s stomach is churning with something like anticipation. 

It’s terribly dark under the trees, the moon hidden away behind the leaves and branches and the clouds in the sky, and he can only see things in the direct beam of his torchlight and Gavin’s too.

And, of course, there are the ghosts.

Some glow, a faint dim light in the distance. Shapeless, or walking figures - little flashes in his peripheral that he tries to ignore. Others he can only see when he shines his light on them. Regardless, there are so _many_ of them - like walking through a crowded mall, brimming masses of twisted figures shuffling their way between the trees. Some standing in place. Some howling - low, haunting noises that make his teeth ache.

“Can you see them,” he whispers, as they take their first steps along the path and one of them walks right through him, making him feel cold and shaky all over for a second.

Gavin just stares at him. It’s hard to see his face in the dark, save his glowing eyes.

“See what?” he asks, and Michael bites his lip.

“Stay close,” he says, and Gavin nods. He presses against Michael’s side and after a moment Michael reaches down and grabs his wrist. The last thing they need is to lose each other in the dark.

They begin to walk. Michael’s looking every which way and that. A feeling of dread has taken over him and every shuffle of a footstep, every snap of a twig under their feet or rustle of leaves in the wind has him on edge. There’s more in this forest than the dead, after all, but even those are distracting him. They pass a long, thin swaying figure, as tall as the trees around them, limbs stretched out like rubber and howling in the wind. Then a row of more human-like figures lining the path. Their heads turn, watching them as they pass - Michael stares straight ahead, not meeting their eyes, disconcerted by those dead silent gazes.

Gavin’s noticed he’s tense. When he touches Michael’s shoulder he jumps a bit.

“What do they look like?” he asks, and Michael pauses, looking around.

“Some look like people,” he says, and glances over his shoulder - the ghosts by the path are still staring at him. There’s something hard and unfriendly in their gaze, that too-serious look that people in old photographs always have. “Some just look like… I don’t know. Shapes.”

“Monsters?”

“Not really.”

Gavin bites his lip. He presses closer against Michael’s side, one hand gripping the back of his jacket, and Michael’s glad for the physical contact as they start walking again. It’s getting darker and darker the deeper into the forest they get and the blackness around the beam of his torch is terrifying, like some endless void anything might spring out from. Even Ray is staying close, shuffling along so close to Michael’s feet that he nearly trips over him a couple of times.

A huge blown out ghost like a cloud stands right in their path and Michael takes a deep breath before walking right through it, tugging Gavin along with him. For a moment he feels terribly cold, like he’s stepped under an air con on full blast. Gavin’s breath catches a little and both he and Ray are trembling when they step out the other side. They felt that, at least.

“They can’t touch us right,” Gavin says, looking over his shoulder at what must just be blank space to him.

“Most can’t,” Michael says.

“ _Most_ ,” Gavin mutters. “Well that’s bloody reassuring!”

Michael can’t help but snort at that, and feels suddenly a surge of relief that he’s not alone in these woods. He’d’ve been fine if he was - probably not even scared so much as uneasy - but it’s nice, suddenly, having the others here with him. Makes him feel braver than he probably is.

“Is it weird seeing the dead?” Gavin asks then. He’s talking quick and nervous, like he’s speaking just to fill the silence, and Michael can’t bring himself to tell him that it’s probably safer to stay quiet. The distraction is relieving, anyway.

“I’m used to it by now,” he replies. “Some of them look a bit fucked up though.”

Gavin makes a little disgruntled noise. “I don’t… I don’t remember anything from when I was dead.”

“I never do either, Gav.”

“Are these souls?”

“I’m not sure,” Michael replies - he tries not to think about this much, and even Ryan doesn’t tend to bother asking him about it. It just messes with your head to try and work it out. “They’re… they’re different from the souls Geoff has in his hell-place I think. I dunno though.”

“I didn’t become one of them after I died,” Gavin muses. “Or at least if I did, I don’t remember it?”

Michael doesn’t have answers for him, and it sounds like Gavin is thinking out loud more than anything else. They continue on, heading for the cottage.

As they leave the main trails there are fewer ghosts. Michael focuses on the beam of his torch, the path under his feet and listening out for anything actually dangerous. It’s hard, because the few that are around them are more alert, staring at them. A horrible, twisted imp-like creature hanging upside down from a tree, glowing gently, leering at them as they pass. A sobbing grey woman who starts to run towards them, screaming for help - Michael drags Gavin along quickly at that one and he makes a muffled, scared noise, but Michael doesn’t tell him what they’re running from -

And at one point, a floating face that appears before them on the path and heads directly towards them, mouth stretching open wider and wider. Michael has to pull a lighter from his pocket and flick it on - the spirit vanishes away as soon as it reaches the light of the flame.

Ray’s growling now, looking double his usual size with his fur all bristling on end.

“Can you see them?” Michael asks him, when he starts snarling and snapping towards what Michael can see is a twisted figure limping along some distance away through the trees - Ray just glances up at him and Michael thinks, maybe, that even if he can’t see them he can sense them the way most animals do. That’s probably more terrifying, to know something is there but be unable to see it. There’s something very uneasy about how dark it is here, silent but for faint whispers and murmurs and keening noises on the wind, and Gavin is pressed right up against his back now. Michael can feel him shivering. He reaches behind him after a moment, feeling about for Gavin’s hand before grabbing it and holding tight as they continue on.

—

They’re getting close to the cottage when there’s a rustling snap from the darkness nearby. Michael spins around, on guard - Ray moving up in front of him, growling. There’s a sound of running footsteps, thunderously loud in the silence - Michael’s chest tightens, afraid of what might be about to burst out of the trees. Behind him Gavin sucks in a breath and clings to the back of his shirt.

A dark shape launches out of the trees and runs towards them. It’s not a monster, Michael notes that first - it’s not big, and it’s not built like some of the awful things that come out in winter. He catches it in the beam of his torch and it skids to a halt, flinching back at the sudden light. It’s some sort of horrible gremlin-like creature, with massive ears and sharp teeth and a twisted little face. He doesn’t know exactly what it is - Ryan would - but it’s the sort of thing that lurks in these forests, that causes trouble but isn’t a serious threat.

Still, it’s snarling at them in the sudden light, and those teeth look damn sharp - Ray’s growling and snapping at it and Michael hisses at it too, now, one arm holding Gavin back behind him. The creature looks up at him and hisses back, but it seems wary now, staring at Michael even more than the snarling Ray before backing off and running back into the trees.

“Fucking weird little thing,” Michael mutters - he turns to make sure Gavin’s okay, only to find the other man staring at him with wide eyes.

“Things are scared of you,” Gavin says. He knows this, he must by now - they’ve gone out for late walks together before and he’s seen things shy away from Michael’s gaze.

“Yeah,” Michael replies, with a bit of a sigh. “They can tell I’m not natural. Most fey can sense when magic’s gone wrong, when it’s the sort that shouldn’t happen.”

Gavin bites his lip. “You reckon things will be scared of me now that I’m like this?”

“I think it’d be pretty fucking hard for anything to be scared of you. You’re _you_ ,” Michael says, and flicks his nose - Gavin laughs a bit, but Michael can see in his eyes that he knows Michael was just dodging the question.

Ray is watching him too now, and Michael shoots him a small smile.

“I don’t care anyway,” he says - grabbing Gavin’s hand again when he notices the other man staring off in the direction the creature vanished - “Who fucking cares if they’re scared of me or not. It means I’m safe - means you guys are too, when you’re with me.”

“That’s true,” Gavin says softly, but he still sounds unsettled, and knowing there are other living things in the forest around them has them all on-edge now as they continue on.

—

Something seems to shift when they step into the clearing where the cottage is.

Maybe it’s because with fewer trees around the moonlight is able to wash weakly across the landscape, lighting things a dim and eerie blue. Maybe it’s because it’s so _silent_ here - no night birds, or insects, or the hollow moans of ghosts. Maybe it’s just the knowledge of what happened here; there are some places, after terrible things occur, that feel heavy with death, so much that even the most secular human can sense it.

It weighs down on Michael, that dread as soon as they step out of the trees and he sees the little building before them, the police tape fluttering gently in the breeze where part of it has ripped.

Ray starts freaking out immediately - growling and whimpering and pushing at Michael’s legs, trying to get him to turn and go back.

“Shhh, shhh,” Michael assures him, crouching down - “Hey, hey, it’s okay - we’ve come all the way here, Ray, we need to fucking finish this up. You don’t have to go in with me. It’s okay, you’re okay-”

“Michael,” Gavin begins, something very strained in his voice - but Michael catches a flicker of movement near the house and stands up.

“Keep an eye on Ray,” he tells Gavin, without turning to look at him, and strides over.

The sick unease in his gut only grows the closer he gets to the house. The open doorway looks like a black gaping maw and he doesn’t realise his hands are shaking until he tries to get out his lighter again, just in case.

_Come on you fuck, don’t be a wuss- nothing can kill you. Nothing can even hurt you, really. What are you fucking scared of?_

He swallows a few times before clearing his throat.

“Hello?” he calls out quietly. “Anyone out there?”

That dreadful silence. But he sees it again, a white shimmer from around the back of the house - relieved he doesn’t have to go inside, he heads around towards the small yard and herb garden.

And there is the ghost.

Just as he expected; she’s perfectly formed - died too recently to start drifting into shapelessness the way some of the others do. She looks nearly entirely human except for a faint translucency and gentle glow - but when she looks up at him Michael can’t help but grimace. Her eyes are entirely white, lips stretched apart in some endless silent scream, and there are ragged injuries rent all over her body. A faint bitter smell hanging about, like burnt popcorn. He swallows and steps closer.

“Hey. Hey, I can see you.”

Ghosts can’t always talk. Sometimes they seem entirely unaware of humans’ presence. But as he approaches, her blank eyes seem to focus on him, and she rises and stumbles forwards, hands outstretched like he can catch her. He goes to, automatically, but she falls right through him and he steps back, feeling an awful pang as he watches her incorporeal body crumple to the ground before she drags herself back up.

It was one thing to hear about the murder. Another to see the victim right in front of him, and he swallows hard, forcing himself to steel up. _Need to get this done._

“I can help you,” he says quietly. “Can you speak? Tell me what did this to you.”

She opens her mouth but again nothing comes out. She just stares at him, something pleading in it, and Michael bites his lip. 

“Your spirit can rest if I find out what did this. Can you take me to it?”

For a moment he thinks the ghost isn’t going to answer. But then, slowly, she turns and begins to hobble - one leg dragging uselessly behind her, wobbling every which way - into the trees. Michael startles a little, for some reason not having expected her to head off so suddenly - but he hurries after her-

Only to pause when something bumps against his legs and he turns to see Ray, growling gently.

“Ray,” he says. “Ray, I can see her, I see her ghost - she’s taking me somewhere, I think to whatever did this. It wasn’t you, it definitely wasn’t you-”

Ray cuts him off with another growl, going so far as to catch the edge of Michael’s jeans in his teeth and tug a little.

“What? I have to go after her,” Michael says, and glances over his shoulder - the ghost is moving slowly, but she’s not waiting for him, still heading off into the trees. He can’t lose her.

But Ray’s insistently snarling and pulling him and suddenly it hits Michael - _where’s Gavin_? - and struck by that sudden alarm, he follows Ray, who lets out a frustrated sort of barking noise and runs over to the house. It takes Michael a moment to realise that Gavin’s gone _inside_ , and his stomach drops as he lifts his torch and runs in too. It’s pitch black in there, and it takes him a moment before the beam of his flashlight falls on Gavin, who’s huddled on the floor near one of the dark patches of blood, arms up over his head. Michael can see his chest heaving as he rocks back and forth, and he crouches next to him, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“Gav? You okay? What’s going on, buddy?”

“Michael…” Gavin reaches out and clings to him immediately. “I had to… to see, I had to see inside, just to know what it was that did it-”

It’s awful but all Michael can think is that the ghost is still slipping away outside and if he loses her now he might never be able to find her again, not in this forest, not with so many of them out this time of year.

“Gav, I know it’s scary in here but you need to get up, okay, I need to go after the ghost and you should head back to the house-”

“I remember, Michael,” Gavin whimpers, and the words stop Michael in his tracks. “It’s… it’s coming back, I think I remember-”

Michael’s stomach drops. He put his torch down on the floor in order to steady Gavin but the beam of light is shining right on the blood spattered wall and those terrible claw marks and whatever’s running through Gavin’s head now, whatever’s coming back to him about whatever it was that killed him all those months ago - it has to be horrifying-

But they have no _time_ , and they certainly can’t sit here talking about it.

He pulls Gavin to his feet and half-drags him back outside. Gavin stumbles after him, not resisting but not helping much either. It helps to be out in the fresh air and Michael takes him by the shoulders and shakes him, not roughly.

“Gavin. It’s not safe here. Go back to the house and get Geoff. Tell him where I am.”

“I can’t…”

“You’re not going alone. Ray, take him back,” Michael orders - Ray growls again, bumping against Michael’s legs.

“I’m going after the ghost,” Michael tells him - Ray lets out a flurry of snarled protests, but Michael’s not about to argue with him, not when communicating is already so difficult between them. He lets go of Gavin and crouches before Ray, reaching out to put a hand on the back of his neck.

“You _need_ to stay with Gavin,” he hisses, urgently. “He can’t go back on his own. Go back to the house. Get the others. Bring Geoff back here to the forest. Okay? I have to go find out what did this, Ray, it might be our only chance. Do you trust me?”

Ray stares at him, his growls fading away. Eyes wide and _scared_ , Michael realises - he forces a smile.

“I’ll find out what happened,” he whispers. “I’ll be fine, Ray, nothing can hurt me. Just keep Gav safe. I’m going to fix this.”

Ray falls silent, but he doesn’t stop Michael from getting up. He glances towards where he left the ghost before and sees her just starting to limp into the treeline. Michael turns and quickly pulls Gavin - still standing, shocked and silent - into a tight hug.

“Stay with Ray,” he whispers, and feels Gavin give the barest of nods before he turns and runs after the ghost. When he glances back over his shoulder he sees Gavin heading back towards the path, seeming to have pulled himself together at least a little. Ray’s sticking close by his side. Michael can only hope they’ll be okay - but he can’t worry about them now as he jogs up behind the ghost. She doesn’t look up at him, set on her path, picking her way painfully along. Michael takes a deep breath. Steels himself, no idea what horror they’re heading towards in these black woods - but he’s not scared now, not with determination at the forefront of his mind - not when the end of all this is helping _Ray_ \- and follows her into the dark.

—

There are parts of the forest where they don’t go.

It’s a huge place - it tapers off a little where some of the land has been cleared away to make place for more pastoral areas - but beyond that it stretches further into the hills, a tangled, twisted dark woodland where even Ryan hasn’t ventured yet. There’s plenty in the brighter, sparser forest close to the house to keep them occupied.

This area is more dangerous.

He’s been here a couple of times, just on the fringes with the others to take photos, or track some of the creatures Ryan studies when they start migrating during the winter. But the ghost leads him towards this area now - it’s growing darker and darker as they head into thicker areas of the woods, and Michael feels steadily more unsettled. It’s hard to move when she starts leading him off the path, and he finds himself stumbling over sticks and roots and stones every step he takes, having to keep his torch cast down towards the ground to avoid tripping over. Everything is pitch black around them, thick like a dark warm blanket. Some stagnant wetness hanging in the air. There are barely even any ghosts here.

When the ghost stops Michael is so focused on walking that he steps right into her and startles at the sudden chill, stumbling back. He looks up and his breath catches in his throat.

A cave.

They’ve reached the steep side of one of the hills, and the trees here are tangled and gnarled, their limbs so thick and twisted together that even with nearly all their leaves dropped dead and drying to the forest floor, they still form a canopy of sorts, keeping out nearly all the moonlight. And before him, a dark entrance leading between two trunks into the hill. He realises abruptly that he has no idea where he is, that in the night and the quiet he has no idea how fucking far he is from the house or how to get back home.

And there’s the cave entrance like a black hole, almost hypnotic in the way he can’t pull his gaze from it.

Michael can only stare at it, transfixed, and then declare, eloquently, “Well fuck me.”

The ghost has stopped moving, staring blankly ahead at the cave door. She doesn’t react even when Michael waves a hand in front of her face. He turns his torch back towards the entrance and bites his lip. Any sensible person would run screaming right about now. Like this is not the fucking way to survive a horror movie, Jesus fucking Christ.

“Great,” he mutters. “Oh great, well, big dark cave, ha ha ha, I guess I have to go in there now. Fucking hell.”

He steps forward and then freezes, knees buckling, before reaching up to run a hand through his hair. He’s breathing a bit too fast now and he can’t help but scoff out a nearly hysterical laugh.

“Do not fucking want to do this. Oh my God.”

He has little choice, though - he can’t exactly just sit here until morning. And if he goes back to the house then he might not be able to find his way back. He takes a deep breath. Starts to step forward. Chickens out again.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he hisses. It just looks fucking _dark_ in there. He slaps at his face, bouncing up and down on the spot, trying to gear himself up.

“What’s the worst that can happen? It’ll kill me? Hahaha wouldn’t that be a fucking tragedy. Come on. Just go in and have a look. See what it is and get outta there. Oh God, I’m gonna fucking piss myself, this is fucked up. Okay. Okay.”

He casts about with his torch on the ground. With all the trees shedding around them it isn’t hard for him to find a large branch that’s broken off one of them, the edge sharp and jagged enough to be a semi-useful weapon. Hefting it in his hand a few times, he takes a few calming breaths. Glances again at that sad ghost and steels himself and then, slowly, begins to walk into the cave.

As soon as he steps inside he feels sick. The darkness seems to wrap around him like a warm blanket and the cave is narrower than he expected, a thin but deep gouge into the side of the hill. Worst of all is the smell, something rank and sweet like dried blood and rotting meat, undercut with a faint putrid staleness like bad breath. He feels like he’s walked into some giant corpse’s mouth and even now is picking his way down a dead throat. Everything is black but for the rock walls he can make out in the beam of his flashlight. 

Then he hears it. A shift of movement in the darkness. He freezes - some part of himself had stupidly supposed that whatever lived in here might be asleep, or out of his lair, and all he’d have to do was find out what it was and then leave - but he realises with horror that _okay it is fucking in here with me and it is fucking_ awake-

He barely has time to register it before something slams into him, sending him flying backwards.

Pain. A sharp, searing pain across his chest - the breath is punched out of him and for a moment he can only cough and gasp. He hits the floor hard and his head bangs against the hard rock ground. For a moment he’s dazed, everything spinning around him. His torch was knocked from his hand and he can’t see a fucking thing but he _hears_ it now, as he struggles to sit up, trying to get his bearings. Something scuttling towards him in the darkness, hissing and snarling - it’s so dark he can’t see how close it is, but then he feels a warmth as something rises up on top of him and on impulse he raises the sharp branch that he’s still got in his hand and thrusts it forward.

The sharp end sinks into flesh and whatever’s on top of him falls back with an awful scream. Michael scrambles to his feet. He stumbles for a moment - his chest _kills_ and he can feel sticky blood running down his stomach - too much blood, an alarming amount - but he turns and starts running, keeping one hand against the wall - hoping to God that he’s heading for the exit and not deeper into the hill.

He can hear the beast pursuing him, whatever it is - thundering footsteps and the sound of claws scraping along the wall - when abruptly he bursts free from the cave and stumbles over the tree roots outside, landing hard enough to graze his hands against the ground. He scrambles forward, clawing his way through piles of fallen leaves and twisting, arching roots.

It’s too dark.

He can’t see a fucking thing without his torch and he pulls out his lighter, flicking it on. His hands are shaking so badly that it takes him a few tries, and even then the light is so meagre that he can barely see a thing. He casts about and snatches up a stick that’s got a bunch of dried leaves hanging off the end. They’re so crisp and dry that when he sets them alight they burn immediately, and he swings the makeshift torch around, looking for the beast.

“Shit,” he gasps - every breath makes his chest flare with pain. “Shit, shit, shit-”

Oh God, fuck, okay, this is not great. He stumbles backwards, trying to get back into the trees where there’s at least some sort of barrier between himself and this… _thing_ , whatever it is. He can hear it, in the dark beyond the circle of his firelight, but he can’t see it - until it steps forward, into range of the light. It’s moving so fast he can’t tell what the fuck it is as it lunges towards him - all he can see is an expanse of glistening skin and sharp claws and a gaping mouth filled with row upon row of _teeth_ -

He swipes at it with his firey branch and it rears backwards, letting out an unholy screech that makes his ears ache and echoes through the whole forest. But it lashes out then, catching him in the stomach this time with its claws with enough force to make him fly backwards again. He slams into a tree and crumples to the ground, winded and choking on blood and everything hurts _so much_ , there’s a spearing pain in his abdomen and he can feel blood rushing out over his hands when he goes to touch it. His vision’s spotted black-

And he can see light, flickering light - he forces himself upright, swaying dizzily, mouth metallic with blood, and realises, oh great, fucking _fantastic,_ he dropped his torch and there are so many dry leaves all over the place that he’s _set the whole fucking forest on fire_. Well shit.

At least he can see now. The fire is spreading in little tendrils, licking its way up trees and catching along the piles of leaves all over the ground. The beast is staggering around, screeching as it tries to avoid the flames.

His vision is so blurry that he still can’t tell what it is, just that it’s got long spindley limbs and is leaping around all over the place and is really fucking _ugly_ \- but he sees its gaze lock on him and he starts scrambling backwards, away from the creature and the fire-

It’s too fast. It’s too fast and he’s too injured and the next thing he knows it’s launching itself at him. He barely rolls out of the way in time - it lands heavily on top of him and its fangs snap together so close to his ear that he hears the click of its teeth. 

The pain is spreading like fire through his gut. But he scrabbles around and his fingers close around a stone. He grabs it - it’s a big rock, heavy - and turns around, smashing it against the thing’s head. It screams, thrashing - it’s stronger, and shakes him off, but he surges up and goes at it again, raising the rock and bringing it down again and again against the thing’s skull and shoulders and throat. It lashes out again with its claws and catches him in the side - he screams raggedly, falling aside, the pain blinding - but when he sees it blurrily rushing towards him, he forces himself to get up and charge it.

They meet head-on. He tackles the thing around the waist and shoves it backwards, towards the spreading fire - knocks it backwards into one of the largest, driest piles of leaves he can see, and then shakily pulls out his lighter again and tosses it in after it.

The whole thing flares up in fire and he stumbles backwards. The heat’s scorching against his face, blinding him for a moment, and when his vision finally clears it’s to find the thing thrashing about screeching. Whatever the fuck it is it’s apparently flammable and it’s spewing bits of fire every which way, setting even more trees alight. 

Burning to death is not something Michael’s ever done before and although he’s pretty sure he could come back from it, it’s definitely not something he wants to put to the test. Turning, he hobbles away - hoping to God that the thing behind him is injured enough that it can’t follow - he moves as fast as he can, pushing the pain to the back of his mind. It doesn’t sound like it’s coming after him. Everything smells like smoke and he’s choking but somehow - by some miracle - he walks and walks into the darkness and the fire fades away behind him, the air is fresh and cool once more, and everything’s gone sort of numb by this point. He’s stumbled away from that dark twisted area of the woods towards the thinner forestry near the fields and pastures of the countryside-

When abruptly he feels very light headed, and looks down and realises his entire front is soaked with blood, and the next thing he knows with a rush of dizziness he’s lying on the ground and the stars are wheeling past over his head.

_Orion_ , he thinks, absurdly, the thought suddenly popping into his head. _Gemini._ That night a few days ago out on the porch with Gavin and Geoff. He can see, faintly in the distance, rising plumes of smoke from the forest. But it is very far away; the stars seem much closer, and he’s so tired suddenly, so weak, his limbs so heavy he can barely lift them. He closes his eyes and lets himself slip away.

—

Michael wakes with a start.

It takes a moment to register where he is. His heart is pounding, the way it always does when he’s just come back. Beating so hard and fast it nearly hurts; he feels a little sick, a little dizzy, not like waking up from sleep. 

He’s tired, and disoriented - but slowly coming back to himself as he recognises the ceiling above him - the crack he’s stared at every night before going to sleep - he’s at home, he realises, in his own bed. Normally he’s right back to being alert as soon as he regenerates, but he was so weak from blood loss at the moment he passed out that it takes him a moment now to work out that _okay, I’m alive, and back at the house -_ and it’s daytime now, sunlight streaming through window nearby-

And there’s a warm weight on the bed next to him.

He rolls over and freezes in his tracks as he comes face to face with Ray.

_Human_ Ray.

Human Ray, in his human form - eyes shut and breathing gently beside him, fast asleep. It takes a moment for it to register, and when it does his heart nearly stops. The flood of relief is so intense that he could cry, something nearly painful welling up in his throat at his first sight of his friend in several days now.

_He’s back._

_He’s fucking_ back-

“Ray,” he croaks out, and is grabbing him and pulling him into a tight hug before he can stop himself. Ray startles awake with a muffled surprised noise that Michael barely registers as he yanks him up into his arms, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder - his bare skin is very warm where it’s pressed against him, and he can feel his heart beating and _he’s human again, he’s human-_

Ray thrashes a moment before freezing, seeming to realise what’s going on.

“Shit,” he gasps, and then hugs Michael back tightly. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m-”

“You’re _human_ again,” Michael says, and Ray’s arms squeeze tighter around him.

“I am,” he says, and then, desperately, “ _Michael_.”

Michael’s hand comes up to hold the back of Ray’s head, fingers nestling in his hair. They’re pressed as tight as they can get against each other and for a moment he just sits there, feeling the other man’s chest rise and fall against his, the press of his nose against the crook of Michael’s neck. He can’t help the tears that sting at the corner of his eyes and he can feel a damp patch at his shoulder where Ray’s face is pressed against him as well.

It’s all terribly sappy and a bit embarrassing but Michael really cannot bring himself to fucking care; he’s grinning stupid-wide when they pull back and beam at each other - Ray smiling too, even with his face flushed and eyes all red - and Michael’s eyes scan over him before he raises his eyes and laughs and says, “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to wake up and find someone unexpectedly naked in my bed.”

Ray looks down and his face goes bright red.

“Shut up, okay, I was a wolf when I went to sleep,” he laughs. “I must’ve changed back in the night.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Michael replies, and can’t quite stop _looking_ at him and everything he’s missed - Ray’s shy sort of smile and his dark eyes, and he reaches out and cups his cheek and says, as though he still can’t quite believe it, “You’re _back_.”

Ray grins wider.

“I fucking missed you dude,” Michael adds, and Ray ducks his head.

“Me too,” he says softly, and tugs Michael in for another hug. Less desperate this time and more just holding each other for a long moment, that touch they both so desperately needed these last few days but were unable to have. Michael’s calmed down a little by the time they pull away this time, and he’s starting to remember exactly what happened back in the forest.

“What happened? How’d I get here?” he asks, and lifts his shirt up. He vaguely realises that someone’s dressed him in a clean t-shirt, and when he runs his fingers over his stomach there’s no trace of any wound. He grimaces a little at the memory of that searing pain - but it’s gone now, not even a scar.

Ray looks down at his bare clear skin as well before Michael drops his shirt and their eyes meet again.

“I did what you said,” Ray explains - and God it’s a _relief_ just to hear his voice again - “I took Gavin back to the house. We woke up the others but Geoff insisted Ryan and Gav stay where they were. Jack stayed with them too and Geoff came out with me. I tracked your scent over to that other stretch of forest and we found your body and then we also noticed that, y’know, you’d set the entire other end of the forest on fire.”

“Ah,” Michael says. “That I did. What did you do about that?”

“I mean, we called the fucking fire department, obviously,” Ray says, and Michael can’t help but laugh. “And then Geoff and I took you back to the house, then he went back out to the forest to investigate since, y’know, he comes from the place where everything’s made of fire anyway.”

Michael laughs again. But that God awful creature is still at the back of his mind.

“And the beast?” he prompts. Ray’s smile fades a little as he swallows.

“Dead,” he says, and gives another weak grin. “After the fire got put out the cops found the body, or what was left of it.”

“What was it?”

“A wendigo,” Ray replies and sighs a bit. “We don’t get those a lot around here but it looks like one wandered in at some point and set up in that cave.”

“Are there more around?” Michael asks, anxiously - but Ray’s already shaking his head.

“The police are checking but they think it’s just the one.”

“Okay,” Michael says, “Good.” 

And the relief sets in then that it’s over, these last few stressful days. It’s over. The beast is dead and Ray is human again in front of him, and Michael reaches out now and grabs Ray’s hands.

“Ray,” he says - and it’s different now that he’s speaking to a human, now that he can see every twist of emotion on the other man’s face - “It wasn’t you.”

“I know,” Ray replies - and there’s still something sad and almost scared in his eyes. “I know that now. I just… God, Michael, it’s all been so fucked up the last few days. I was certain I’d done it... I just…” His voice chokes up and Michael squeezes his hands, but Ray looks up and forces himself to continue. “I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t remember that night and I thought… I really thought it was me. And I _hated_ myself for it, I just…”

He trails off, shaking his head, and Michael brings one hand up to curl around the back of his neck instead.

“You’re okay now,” he says, and Ray takes a shaky breath and nods. He looks up at Michael and his smile isn’t forced.

“Yeah,” he says, and then - something almost tentative in it - “You didn’t give up on me.”

“‘course not,” Michael scoffs, and Ray shakes his head.

“No, Michael, you - you full fucking went out and killed a wendigo for me - you _died_ for me.”

Something oddly flustered rises up in Michael’s chest.

“I came back,” he replies dismissively. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is though,” Ray insists, and bites his lip then, looking away. “When… when Geoff and I  found your body…”

Michael swallows hard at the thought of it. Even if they knew he was gonna come back… it couldn’t have been pretty, the sight of his corpse. He can’t quite remember what his injuries were but given how they felt and how much blood there’d been, they were probably pretty fucking messy. And after what happened to Gavin, the sight of any one of them dead out in the forest couldn’t have been easy to handle.

“I came back,” he repeats, and squeezes Ray’s shoulder. “I’m always gonna come back. You’re not gonna lose me.”

“I know,” Ray says, and gives another small smile. But he pulls his knees up to his chest then, pulling the bedsheets with him, and Michael frowns a little.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and Ray nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just… being stuck as a wolf for so long sucked and I was just… stuck in my own head too, you know? I’m glad I changed back. I realised, back there after we found you, that whatever it was was still out there. That it definitely wasn’t me. It was a fucking relief but I was so worried about you I guess I still couldn’t change back until I fell asleep and you resurrected in the night next to me. It just feels a bit strange to be human again after shifting for so long. But good,” he adds with a grin. “I’m glad to be back. It was hell not being able to talk to you guys.”

“Think the others got a bit too used to having a pet around,” Michael teases, and Ray laughs and swipes at him.

“Oi!”

“Speaking of the others,” Michael says, “Where are they?”

“Asleep probably,” Ray says, and starts to climb out of the bed. “We should go talk to them. They’ll be glad to see you awake and me human again.”

“Put on some clothes first, pal,” Michael says, eyebrows rising, and when Ray turns red again he can barely help his own blush as he looks away, laughing.

—

Michael can’t help the warm swell in his chest as he watches the others embrace Ray, one by one as they all meet up in the kitchen where, apparently, everyone else fucking fell asleep after sitting up all night waiting for updates from the police. They’re all laughing, a little hysterically, but the relief in the room is palpable and Michael can see from Ray’s small smile that he’s a little surprised, but not unpleased, at just how much everyone _missed_ him. How much everyone cares.

They hugged Michael too, when they saw him alive. Geoff - fierce and warm and still smelling vaguely of charcoal - then Jack, careful and tender as always. Gavin, tight and fierce and familiar. Even Ryan, which Michael was oddly touched by; he’s not normally the most tactile of people and he knows from everything Michael’s told him from his research that there was no doubt that he’d come back _,_ that he’d heal, that he’d be fine. But he embraces him anyway, and smiles at him when they pull apart. He looks tired and Michael knows he feels oddly responsible for all of them - maybe because he took them in, because he owns the house - the last few days must have been pretty fucking stressful.

Geoff ruffles Ray’s hair as he pulls away, and then jabs a finger at his chest.

“Don’t you ever fucking scare us like that again, dude,” he says, and Ray lets out a startled laugh.

“I’ll try not to.”

“I mean it,” Geoff insists, and stares at him intently. “Gavin told me why you were stuck. Killing someone - this whole thing - you’d never do something like that. So don’t think that of yourself. There are monsters out there, yeah, we saw that last night. But not us.” He looks up at all of them - Jack, Michael, Gavin. Even Ryan. “Not any of _us_.”

They all nod, oddly solemn, but despite how many times he’s told Ray the same thing, hearing it from someone else strikes at something in Michael’s chest. He looks away, gathering himself, and when he turns back it’s to see Gavin taking his turn hugging Ray. They cling to each other for a long moment, Ray’s hand stroking down Gavin’s back, and when they pull apart Michael takes the chance to go up to Gavin’s side as everyone else moves to start chattering and making breakfast and resuming some sense of normalcy.

“You okay?” Michael whispers, leaning in close to Gavin’s ear.

Gavin looks over at him and forces a small smile.

“I’m fine,” he replies - and then, at Michael’s disbelieving look, “I was scared back there. I’m sorry I freaked out a bit. But I’m glad you’re okay! I can’t believe you killed that thing with like, your bare hands. Like I know we joke about the Mogar thing but that’s pretty damn impressive, boi. Why you gotta burn down half the bloody forest though-”

“You said you remembered,” Michael cuts in, not letting him escape that easily. Gavin’s face falls a little, but he bites his lip and answers.

“I didn’t really,” he admits. “I mean I… I was freaked out going into that house and I thought it all seemed kind of familiar. The dark and… and the blood and those claw marks… but it didn’t come back, not properly. I don’t remember details. It was just a… feeling, like it was pressing at my mind and it was about to all come back in. That was what scared me. But it didn’t, and I’m okay now.” 

“Gavin,” Michael insists firmly, squeezing his hand. “It might happen. You might remember one day.”

“I don’t want to,” Gavin says, a bit pitifully.

“I know, bud, but when it does you… you have to be ready. You know we’re all here, right, to help you if you wanna talk about it or anything-”

“I know,” Gavin cuts in, and smiles at him. “I mean it, Michael, I’m fine, really.”

“You sure?”

Gavin nods, and then leans in and kisses Michael’s cheek before prancing off to join Ryan at the fridge. Michael stares after him and after a moment tuts and shakes his head. It’s Gavin’s go-to distraction technique and even if he was obviously just trying to escape an unwanted conversation, Michael can’t help but feel oddly fond of him anyway. And watching him laughing and smiling with Ryan - and the way the other man’s gaze settles protectively over him - Gavin will be fine, he thinks. If anything happens they’ll deal with it the way they deal with everything. The way they dealt with this.

—

Breakfast is an oddly normal affair. They settle back into their routine, the six of them around the table. Awful jokes and Geoff burning people’s toast and a clamour of noise and laughter and _life_ that sets the events of last night into the back of Michael’s mind, pushed away like nothing more than a bad dream.

Still. After they’re finished Ryan goes to call the police to ask what’s going on, and Michael can’t help but linger at the end of the hall watching him as he nods and ‘ _mm hm’s_ ’ and ‘ _yes officer’s_ ’. Waiting to see what happened, half-afraid there might be other beasts out there.

But Ryan doesn’t seem worried when he hangs up - although he jumps a little when he turns away from the phone and Geoff suddenly appears behind him in a flash of blue flame.

“Geoff,” Ryan says - the demon’s staring at him intently. “The police called back. They’ve searched the whole forest - no other wendigos. Looks like it was just the one and Michael pretty thoroughly got rid of it. They’ll come by to talk to him at some point but otherwise all seems clear.”

“Good,” Geoff says. “But Ryan. You have to be careful.”

“What?”

“We got lucky this time.” There’s something worried that sits uncomfortably in Geoff’s voice. “I know you and Gavin pretty much just run around on your own out there but you… you gotta stay safe, dude. I can’t deal with losing you. Not after Gavin.”

“Geoff…”

“I know you brought him back, but if you died we… we can’t just keep bringing people back from the grave, man. I said it comes with a price, remember? I’m still worried about that.”

Ryan frowns a bit. “What do you mean? I thought we worked out that ‘price’ was just how shitty Gavin felt for so long afterwards - how later on when we… when all the rest of us are gone he’ll still be around-”

“I don’t know,” Geoff insists. “That seems too easy. I still think something might happen. I’m just worried, y’know-”

“Don’t be,” Ryan persists, but Geoff just sighs.

“Anyway. I mean it, you’re human. You can get hurt too easily. So just - be careful, alright?”

There’s something a bit awkward, almost sheepish in it, and Ryan doesn’t seem to know what to say. But after a moment he smiles and reaches out, touching Geoff’s shoulder - the demon seems surprised; his flames are a bit too erratic for Ryan to usually risk getting so close, but he squeezes the demon’s arm now and smiles at him.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, and Geoff smiles back before turning away. He wanders off and when Michael heads into the living room moments later, frowning over the strange interaction, he sees Geoff and Jack sitting out in the yard together, shoulders touching with how close they are, talking quietly.

They come back inside soon enough and all six of them stay together most of the rest of the day. Hanging out in the living room, Ryan reading, the rest of them playing Xbox. Just glad to all be together again - Michael sees the others’ gazes lingering on Ray - taking comfort in what has become so familiar, so _loved_ to them.

He’s worried about what he heard Geoff saying before. But Michael puts it from his mind now and just - drinks it in, the feeling of being safe here, of being _home_ , and the others he has come to need so much close around him. 

He has been alone too long, he knows that. It’s why even now he feels hesitant sometimes to get close. Because he knows what it is like to have that bottomless empty pit in your soul that no amount of mere _time_ can fill. To live and live, year after year, never satisfied, never finding that fulfilment he needs to stop just being _alive_ and start actually _living_ \- he knows all too well it is exactly that emotional wendigo that makes immortality such a curse.

But it is not like that here. He is not _hungry_ like that here, has not been in a very long time. And he needs that, he thinks. He needs all five of them.

—

It’s late that afternoon when Michael leaves the others and goes up to sit on the roof. He’s barely gotten up there than Ray comes out and joins him, moving to sit next to him, their shoulders just brushing. With summer gone it’s cooler now and the sky around them is grey. Michael knows it’s from the forest fire. It still smells faintly like smoke up here, tickling the back of his throat.

Ray’s arm is warm where it nudges against his, and Michael turns to look at him. It still hasn’t quite sunk in yet, everything that happened. That someone _died_ that night in the forest. That Ray was convinced he was capable of killing her. It all still seems like some distant nightmare, and he can tell that it hasn’t really hit the others yet either. Or if it has then they’re all trying to ignore it, to bury it away under layers of normalcy and just not think about it.

Ray turns and finds him staring. He meets Michael’s eyes with a small smile and bumps their knees together.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

It’s something they ask each other a lot. That’s part of what Michael likes so much about their friendship; it’s rare to find someone you can so easily, so comfortably check in with all the time, with no fear of judgement. But he nods now.

“Yeah,” he replies.

Ray looks away then, something a bit sad in his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Michael frowns, confused.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because. It must’ve been hell for you to see me stuck in that form, to know what I… what I thought I did. I dunno.”

Michael bites his lip.

“It was,” he admits. “But that’s not your fault. None of this was. I just… I missed you, Ray, not being able to talk to you. And I was scared that you’d be stuck like that or you’d… you’d leave. Fuck, I dunno. I just... lose people, it’s part of this curse of being what I am. I’m gonna fucking outlive all of you and if something happens I’m the only one who’ll be sure to survive and I just… it’s so fucking morbid but it’s _true_. Last year I thought I’d lost Gavin. I thought he was gone forever and I couldn’t fucking stand it and I… I can’t lose you. I _can’t_. Sometimes I just…. feel like I’m running out of time. Like it’s all gonna go too fast and next thing I know a hundred years will have passed and I’ll still be here and all the rest of you just... won’t.”

Ray listens in silence, eyes wide. 

“You’re not running out of time,” he says softly. “I’m not going anywhere either, Michael.”

Michael just looks away, and after a moment Ray sighs a bit.

“No one’s going anywhere. We still have so much to do. Remember when you told me about that prophecy? How everyone’s gonna end up together? It’s gonna come true.”

Michael stares at him, a bit taken aback by how that suddenly came up. He scoffs, though, at the confidence in Ray’s voice.

“How do you know that?”

“Can’t you see?” Ray says. “Jack and Geoff… Ryan and Gav… all of us. Things are changing already.” He smirks and jostles Michael’s shoulder again. “It’ll happen, and it’ll happen while we’re all still around to see it, old man.”

Michael bumps him back, laughing a bit. But he says then, uncertainly, “I was… scared, after Gavin died. Scared that I’d ruined it, that I’d fucked everything up by wasting the chance and not making a move before something happened to ruin everything. To take one of us away. I’m just… worried, I guess. That that might happen for real.”

Ray is so quiet for a moment that Michael thinks he didn’t hear him, or maybe didn’t understand. But when he turns it’s to find Ray looking at him intently, thoughtfully - almost _nervously_. The wolf licks his lips a little, before glancing up to meet Michael’s eyes, something too serious in his gaze.

“So make a move then,” he says.

Michael stares at him, the words not quite registering.

“What?”

“Right now. Do it. It’s gonna happen eventually, right? You’re worried you’re running out of time. So don’t waste any more. Do it.”

“Ray…” 

Michael feels too vulnerable suddenly, sitting here, uncertain what his friend is asking - but Ray just smiles then, a little shyly, and Michael can see suddenly how nervous he is too.

“I mean it,” Ray says, and tilts his head a little. “You should. Right now.”

Michael bites his lip. It’s an open invitation but he’s oddly hesitant, suddenly - _are we ready, is this - is this really the moment -_

But he thinks, then, of how they spent so much of the summer up here on the roof. Of how many nights they’ve laid awake talking - of how he feels closer to Ray than he’s ever felt to anyone before -

Of how fucking close he came to losing him these last few days. And Ray is right. He can’t let that happen again, and if he’s scared about it he needs to act now, and he _wants_ to act now, and it’s not summer any more. The time for slow waiting is over. Ray’s right. He should make a move.

So he does.

He leans in - Ray’s breath catches a little - Michael’s more scared than he’s ever been as their lips touch, his stomach twisting but not with fear, with a nervousness that’s pleasant, that lends some edge to it as they come together. Tentatively at first - then Ray reaches up and grabs the front of Michael’s shirt and yanks him in properly. Michael’s eyes fall shut and they kiss, up there on the roof with the faint tang of smoke around them and Ray’s knee warm against his and the hard press of chapped lips, the slight scrape of teeth, Ray’s hand fisted tightly in the fabric of his shirt, all of it seeming to fall into place of a sudden.

When they break apart Ray keeps him held close, his breath warm against Michael’s lips, both of them panting heavily. Michael can only stare at him, a little shellshocked.

“Wow,” he says, and Ray laughs a bit - but still he can’t help but ask, “So where does that leave us?”

Ray opens his mouth and Michael quickly cuts in, “Don’t you dare say YOLO.”

Ray laughs again, sheepishly, and Michael rolls his eyes - and even if everything’s changing, now, and the leaves falling and the dead coming out and things seeming to move almost _too_ fast now after that slow heat of summer - it’s Ray, it’s just _Ray_ , and there’s nothing to be scared about here. 

“We’ll work it out,” Ray assures him. “I mean it, just let things be, we’ll work it out.”

There isn’t much to work out, to be quite honest, because staring into Ray’s eyes here, having him back again after all that happened - thinking of every day they spent up here under the sun - it’s quite clear in Michael’s mind where this leaves them. And they’re words he’s never dared hold before, never dared think he was capable of after all that was done to him, after what he’s become. _I love you_. 

But he doesn’t want to say them now - doesn’t want to _rush it_ , suddenly, because it doesn’t feel here and now like he’s running out of time, like years can pass too quickly when everything around you is slowly dying. He doesn’t need to say them yet - he can take his time - and instead he leans in and nestles a hand in Ray’s hair and tugs him in to kiss him again.


End file.
